7^- 


FROM   THE  LIBRARY  OF 
REV.   LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON,  D.  D. 

BEQUEATHED   BY   HIM   TO 

THE   LIBRARY  OF 

PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


I 


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^f^      *- 

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,^  ?■'  '.a  .:t   Q)  it  i  ^  >i"  ^'  a  id  a  i>r.  a 


3.      5.     AcioMxb 


P  0  E  M  SXJ 


OF 


RELIGION    AND    SOCIETY 

JOHN  QUINCY  ADAMS, 

SIXTH    PRESIDENT   OF   THE   UNITED   STATES,    ETC.,   ETa 


Notices  of  I)i5  £ife  ani  (Eljatacier, 


JOHN    DAVIS    AND    T.    H.    BENTON. 


AI  Bl  RN  : 

DFRRV  AND  MILLKR. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  th.e  year  1848,  by 

WILLIAM  H.  GRAHAM. 

in  the  Clerk'a  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Southern  District 
of  New  York. 


Stereotyped  by  Baner  &  PAl*M»a 
11  Spruce  Street 


CONTENTS. 


The  Life  of  Mr.  Adams,  by  the  Hon.  John  Davis, 

The  Character  of  Mr.  Adams,  by  the  Hon.  T.  H.  Benton, 


7 
12 


POEMS. 

The  Wants  of  Man,  .         .        • 15 

The  Plague  in  the  Forest, 24 

To  a  Bereaved  Mother, 29 

Charles  the  Fifth's  Clocks, 32 

Retrospection,    .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .30 

To  the  Sun-dial,  under  the  Window  of  the  Hall  of  the  House 


of  Representatives  of  the  United  States, 
The  Thirteenth  Satire  of  Juvenal, 
Version  of  the  One  Hundred  Seventh  Psalm, 

The  Hour-glass, 

Sabbath  Morning, 

The  Death  of  Children,      .... 

Written  in  Sickness, 

Hymn  for  the  Twenty-second  of  December, 

O  God,  with  goodness  all  thy  own. 

Sing  to  Jehovah  a  new  song, 

O,  all  ye  people,  clap  your  hands,  . 


38 
39 
52 
54 
56 
58 
60 
62 
64 
65 
67 


IV 


CONTENTS. 


Turn  to  the  stars  of  heaven  thine  eyes, 
O  Lord  my  God !  how  great  art  thou ! 
O  Lord,  thy  all-discerning  eyes. 
My  soul,  before  thy  Maker  kneel,  . 
For  Thee  in  Zion  waiteth  praise. 
My  Shepherd  is  the  Lord  on  high. 
Send  forth,  0  God,  thy  truth  and  light, 
O  judge  me,  Lord,  for  thou  art  just, 
O  heal  me,  Lord,  for  I  am  weak, 
Blest  is  the  mortal  whose  delight,  . 
Why  should  I  fear  in  evil  days, . 
Come,  let  us  sing  unto  the  Lord,     . 
Sing  to  the  Lord  a  song  of  praise, 
Lord  of  all  Worlds, 
Justice — an  Ode, 

To  Sally, 

ToE B: ,      . 

To  a  Lady,  who  Presented  him  with 
The  Lip  and  the  Heart,     . 
Written  in  an  Album,     . 


a  Pair  of  Knit  Gloves, 


69 
71 
73 
75 

77 

79 

81 

82 

83 

85 

87 

89 

90 

92 

94 

100 

103 

105 

107 

108 


PUBLISHER'S    NOTICE. 


It  is  known  to  all  the  friends  of  the  late  ex-President  Adams, 
that  it  was  bis  custom  from  early  manhood  to  devote  his  leisure 
moments  to  literature;  and  the  fruits  of  his  literary  studies, 
when  collected  in  an  appropriate  form,  will  show  that  he  is  enti- 
tled to  high  consideration  among  our  authors.  Among  his 
poems  are  a  translation  **'  of  Wieland's  '*  Oberon"  that  has  never 
been  published.  His  *'  Dermot  IMcMorrogh"  failed  of  a  just 
appreciation,  on  account  of  his  political  relations.  Many  of  his 
minor  pieces  have  wit,  humor,  grace,  and  tenderness,  and  they 
are  all  informed  with  wisdom  and  various  learning.  Some  of 
his  ''  hymns"  are  among  the  finest  devotional  lyrics  in  our  Ian 
guage. 

This  collection  of  Mr.  Adams'  shorter  poems  is,  of  course, 
incomplete,  having  been  made  from  the  periodicals  and  miscel- 
lanies in  which  they  were  originally  printed  ;  but  the  editor  has 
made  it  as  perfect  as  his  opportunities  allowed,  and  he  is  confi- 
dent that,  in  the  absence  of  any  other  volume  of  the  same  kind, 
he  has  done  an  acceptable  service  to  the  reading  public. 

New  York,  Sept.,  1848. 

*  See  Griflwold'a  "Prose  writers  of  America,"  Article  J.  Q.  Adama 


SKETCH 

OF    THE 

LIFE    OF    MR.    ADAMS. 

BY    THE    HON.    JOHN    DAVIS. 

John  Quincy  Adams  was  born  in  the  then  Province  of  INIas- 
sachusetts,  while  she  was  girding  herself  fur  the  great  Revolu- 
tionary struggle  which  was  then  before  her.  His  parentage  is 
too  well  known  to  need  even  an  allusion ;  yet  I  may  be  pardoned 
if  I  say,  that  his  father  seemed  born  to  aid  in  the  establishment 
of  our  free  government,  and  his  mother  was  a  suitable  compan- 
ion and  co-laborer  of  such  a  patriot.  The  cradle  hymns  of  iho 
child  were  the  songs  of  liberty.  The  power  and  competence  of 
man  for  self-government  were  the  topics  which  he  most  frequent- 
ly heard  discussed  by  the  wise  men  of  the  day,  and  the  inspira- 
tion thus  caught,  gave  form  and  pressure  to  his  after  life.  Thus 
early  imbued  with  the  love  of  free  institutions,  educated  by  his 
father  for  the  service  of  his  country,  and  early  led  by  Washing- 
ton to  its  altar,  he  has  stood  before  the  world  as  one  of  its  emi- 
nent statesmen.  He  has  occupied,  in  turn,  almost  every  place 
of  honor  which  the  country  could  give  him,  and  for  more  than 
half  a  century  has  been  thus  identified  with  its  history.  Under 
any  circumstances,  I  should  feel  myself  unecpial  to  the  task  of 
rendering  justice  to  his  memory:  but,  with  the  debilitating  effect 
of  bad  health  still  upon  me,  I  can  only  with  extreme  brevity 
touch  upon  some  of  the  most  prominent  features  of  his  life. 

While  yet  a  young  man,  he  was,  in  May,  1794,  appointed 
Minister  Resident  to  the  States  General  of  the  United  Nether- 


8  LIFE    OF    MR.    ADAMS. 

lauds.  In  May,  1796,  two  years  after,  he  was  appointed  Minis- 
ter Plenipotentiary  at  Lisbon,  in  Portugal.  These  honors  were 
conferred  on  him  by  George  Washington,  with  the  advice  and 
consent  of  the  Senate. 

In  May,  1797,  he  was  appointed  Minister  Plenipotentiary  to 
the  King  of  Prussia.  In  March,  1798,  and  probably  while  at 
Berlin,  he  was  appointed  a  Commissioner,  with  full  powers  to 
negotiate  a  treaty  of  amity  and  commerce  with  Sweden. 

After  his  return  to  the  United  States  he  was  elected  by  the 
Legislature  of  Massachusetts  a  Senator,  and  discharged  the  duties 
of  that  station  in  this  chamber  from  the  4th  of  March,  1803,  until 
June,  1808,  when,  differing  from  his  colleague  and  from  the 
State  upon  a  great  political  question,  he  resigned  his  seat.  In 
June,  1809,  he  was  nominated  and  appointed  Minister  Plenipo- 
tentiary to  the  Court  of  St.  Petersburgh. 

While  at  that  court,  in  February,  1811,  he  was  appointed  an 
Associate  Justice  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States,  to 
fill  a  vacancy  occasioned  by  the  death  of  Judge  Cushing,  but 
never  took  his  seat  upon  the  bench. 

In  May,  1813,  he,  with  Messrs.  Gallatin  and  Bayard,  was 
nominated  Envoy  Extraordinary  and  Minister  Plenipotentiary  to 
negotiate  a  treaty  of  peace  with  Great  Britain,  under  the  media- 
tion of  Russia,  and  a  treaty  of  commerce  with  Russia.  From 
causes  which  it  is  unnecessary  to  notice,  nothing  was  accom- 
plished under  this  appointment.  But  afterward,  in  January, 
1814,  he,  with  Messrs.  Gallatin,  Bayard,  Clay,  and  Russell,  were 
appointed  Ministers  Plenipotentiary  and  Extraordinary  to  nego- 
tiate a  treaty  of  peace,  and  a  treaty  of  commerce  with  Great 
Britain.  This  mission  succeeded  in  effecting  a  pacification,  and 
the  name  of  Mr.  Adams  is  subscribed  to  the  treaty  of  Ghent. 

After  this  eventful  crisis  in  our  public  affairs,  he  was,  in  Feb- 
ruary, 1815,  selected  by  Mr.  Madison  to  represent  the  country, 
and  protect  its  interests,  at  the  Court  of  St.  James ;  and  he  re- 
mained there  as  Envoy  Extraordinary  and  Minister  Plenipotenti- 
ary until  Mr.  Monroe  became  President  of  the  United  States. 


LIFE    OF    MR.    ADAMS.  9 

On  the  5th  of  Marcn,  1817,  at  the  commencement  of  the  new 
administration,  he  was  appointed  Secretary  of  State,  and  con- 
tmued  in  the  office  while  that  genlleman  was  at  the  head  of  the 
administration. 

In  18"25,  he  was  elected  his  successor,  and  discharged  the 
duties  of  President  for  one  term,  ending  on  the  third  of  March, 
1829. 

Here  followed  a  brief  period  of  repose  from  public  service, 
and  Mr.  Adams  retired  to  his  family  mansion  at  Qiiincy  ;  but 
was  elected  a  member  of  the  House  of  Representatives,  from  the 
district  in  which  he  lived,  at  the  next  election  which  occurred 
after  his  return  to  it,  and  took  his  seat  in  December,  1831.  He 
retained  it,  by  successive  elections,  to  the  day  of  his  death. 

I  have  not  ventured,  on  this  occasion,  beyond  a  bare  enume- 
ration of  the  high  places  of  trust  and  confidence  which  have  been 
conferred  upon  the  deceased.  The  service  covers  a  period  of 
more  than  half  a  century ;  and  what  language  can  I  employ 
which  will  portray  more  forcibly  the  great  merits  of  the  deceas- 
ed, the  confidence  reposed  in  him  by  the  public,  or  the  ability 
with  which  he  discharged  the  duties  devolved  upon  him,  than 
by  this  simple  narration  of  recorded  facts  ?  An  ambitious  man 
could  not  desire  a  more  emphatic  eulogy. 

Mr.  Adams,  however,  was  not  merely  a  statesman,  but  a  ripe, 
accomplished  scholar,  who,  during  a  life  of  remarkably  well- 
directed  industry,  made  those  great  acquirements  which  adorned 
his  character,  and  gave  to  it  the  manly  strength  of  wisdom  and 
intelligence. 

As  a  statesman  and  patriot,  he  will  rank  among  the  illustrious 
men  of  an  age  prolific  in  great  names,  and  greatly  distinguished 
for  its  progress  in  civilization.  The  productions  of  his  pen  are 
proofs  of  a  vigorous  mind,  imbued  with  a  profound  knowledge 
of  what  it  investigates,  and  of  a  memory  which  was  singularly 
retentive  and  capacious. 

But  his  character  is  not  made  up  of  those  conspicuous  qualities 
alone.     He  will  be  remembered  for  the  virtues  of  private  life 


10  LIFE    OF    MR.    ADAMS. 

for  his  elevated  moral  example,  for  his  integrity,  for  his  devotion 
to  his  duties  as  a  Christian,  as  a  neighbor,  and  as  the  head  of  a 
family.  In  all  these  relations,  few  persons  have  set  a  more 
steadfast  or  brighter  example,  and  few  have  descended  to  the 
grave  where  the  broken  ties  of  social  and  domestic  affection 
have  been  more  sincerely  lamented.  Great  as  may  be  the  loss 
to  the  public  of  one  so  gifted  and  wise,  it  is  by  the  family  that 
his  death  will  be  most  deeply  felt.  His  aged  and  beloved  part- 
ner, who  has  so  long  shared  the  honors  of  his  career,  and  to 
whom  all  who  know  her  are  bound  by  the  ties  of  friendship, 
will  believe  that  we  share  her  grief,  mourn  her  bereavement, 
and  sympathize  with  her  in  her  affliction. 

It  is  believed  to  have  been  the  earnest  wish  of  his  heart  to  die, 
like  Chatham,  in  the  midst  of  his  labors.  It  w^as  a  sublime 
thought,  that  where  he  had  toiled  in  the  house  of  the  nation,  in 
hours  of  the  day  devoted  to  its  service,  the  stroke  of  death 
should  reach  him.  and  there  sever  the  ties  of  love  and  patriot- 
ism which  bound  him  to  earth.  He  fell  in  his  seat,  attacked  by 
paralysis,  uf  which  he  had  before  been  a  subject.  To  describe 
the  scene  which  ensued  would  be  impossible.  It  was  more  than 
the  spontaneous  gush  of  feeling  which  all  such  events  call  forth, 
so  much  to  the  honor  of  our  nature.  It  was  the  expression  of 
reverence  for  his  moral  worth,  of  admiration  for  his  great  intel- 
lectual endowments,  and  of  veneration  for  his  age  and  public 
services.  All  gathered  round  the  sufferer,  and  the  strong  sym- 
pathy and  deep  feeling  which  were  manifested,  showed  that  the 
business  of  the  House  (which  was  instantly  adjourned)  was  for- 
gotten amid  the  distressing  anxieties  of  the  moment.  He  was 
soon  removed  to  the  apartment  of  the  Speaker,  where  he  re- 
mained, surrounded  by  afflicted  friends,  till  the  weary  clay  re- 
signed its  immortal  spirit.  ''  This  is  the  end  of  earth  !"  Brief 
but  emphatic  words.  They  were  among  the  last  uttered  by  the 
dying  Christian. 

Thus  has  closed  the  life  of  one  whose  purity,  patriotism,  tal- 
ents, and  learning,  have  seldom  been  seriously  questioned.     To 


LIFE    OF    MR.    ADAMS. 


11 


Bay  thai  he  bad  fiiults,  would  only  be  declaring  that  he  was  hu- 
man. Lei  him  who  is  exempt  from  error,  venture  to  point  them 
out.  In  this  long  career  of  public  life,  it  would  be  strange  if 
the  venerable  man  had  not  met  with  many  who  have  differed 
from  him  in  sentiment,  or  who  have  condemned  his  acts.  If 
there  be  such,  let  the  mantle  of  oblivion  be  thrown  over  each 
unkind  thought.  Let  not  the  grave  of  the  "  old  man  eloquent" 
be  desecrated  by  unfriendly  remembrances,  but  let  us  yield  our 
homage  to  his  many  virtues,  and  let  it  be  our  prayer  that  we 
may  so  perform  our  duties  here,  that,  if  summoned  in  a  like  sud- 
den and  appalling  manner,  we  may  not  be  found  unprepared  or 
unable  to  utter  his  words,  "I  am  composed." 


THE 
CHARACTER   OF   MR     ADAMS 

BY    THE    HON.    T.    H.    BENTON. 

The  voice  of  his  native  State  has  been  heard,  through  one  of 
the  Senators  of  Massachusetts,  announcing  the  death  of  her  aged 
and  most  distinguished  son.  It  is  not  unfitting  or  unbecoming 
in  me  to  second  the  motion  which  has  been  made,  for  extending 
the  last  honors  of  tlie  Senate  to  him  who,  forty-five  years  ago, 
was  a  member  of  this  body,  who,  at  the  time  of  his  death,  was 
among  the  oldest  members  of  the  House  of  Representatives,  and 
who,  putting  the  years  of  his  service  together,  was  the  oldest  of 
all  the  members  of  the  American  government. 

The  eulogium  of  Mr.  Adams  is  made  in  the  facts  of  his  life, 
which  the  Senator  from  Massachusetts  has  so  strikingly  stated, 
that,  from  early  manhood  to  octogenarian  age,  he  has  been  con 
stantly  and  mosi  honorably  employed  in  the  public  service.  F  r 
a  period  of  more  than  fifty  years,  from  the  time  of  his  first  ap- 
pointment as  minister  abroad  under  Washington,  to  his  last  elec- 
tion to  the  House  of  Representatives  by  the  people  of  his  native 
district,  he  has  been  constantly  retained  in  the»public  service; 
and  that,  not  by  the  favor  of  a  sovereign,  or  by  hereditary  title, 
but  by  the  elections  and  appointments  of  republican  government. 
This  fact  makes  the  eulogy  of  the  illustrious  deceased.  For 
what,  except  a  union  of  all  the  qualities  which  command  the 
esteem  and  confidence  of  man,  could  have  ensured  a  public  ser 
vice  so  long,  by  appointments  free  and  popular,  and  from  sources 
so  various  and  exalted  ?  Minister  many  times  abroad ;  member 
of  this  body ;  member  of  the  House  of  Representatives ;  cabi 


CIIAKACTEIi    OF    MR.    ADAMS.  13 

uet  minister;  rresiilent  of  the  United  States;  siitli  lias  been  the 
galaxy  of  his  splendid  appointments.  And  what  but  moral  ex- 
cellence the  most  perfect ;  intellectual  ability  the  most  eminent ; 
fidelity  the  ra«)st  unwavering;  service  the  most  useful;  could 
have  commanded  such  a  succession  of  appointments  so  exalted, 
from  sources  so  various  and  so  eminent  1  Nothing  less  could 
have  commanded  such  a  series  of  appointments ;  and  accordingly 
we  see  the  union  of  all  these  great  qualities  in  him  who  has  re- 
ceived them. 

In  this  long  career  of  public  service,  Mr.  Adams  was  distin- 
guished not  only  by  faithful  attention  to  all  the  great  duties  of  his 
Btitions,  but  to  all  their  less  and  minor  duties.  He  w^as  not  the 
Salamiuian  galley,  to  be  launched  only  on  extraordinary  occa- 
sions, but  he  was  the  ready  vessel,  always  launched  when  the 
duties  of  his  station  required  it,  be  the  occasion  great  or  small. 
As  President,  as  cabinet  minister,  as  minister  abroad,  he  exam- 
ined all  questions  that  came  before  him,  and  examined  all,  in  all 
their  parts,  in  all  the  minutia)  of  their  detail,  as  well  as  in  all  the 
vastness  of  their  comprehension.  As  Senator,  and  as  a  member 
c»f  the  House  of  Representatives,  the  obscure  committee-room 
was  as  much  the  witness  of  his  laborious  application  to  the  drudg- 
ery of  legislation,  as  the  halls  of  the  two  Houses  were  to  the 
ever  ready  speech,  replete  with  knowledge,  which  instnicted  all 
hearers,  enlightened  all  subjects,  and  gave  dignity  and  ornament 
to  debate. 

In  the  observance  of  all  the  proprieties  of  life,  Mr.  Adams  was 
a  most  noble  and  impressive  example.  He  cultivated  the  minor 
as  well  as  the  greater  virtues.  Wherever  his  presence  could 
give  aid  and  countenance  to  what  was  useful  and  honorable  to 
man,  there  he  was.  In  the  exercises  of  the  school  and  of  the  col- 
lege— in  the  meritorious  meetings  of  the  agricultural,  mechani- 
cal, and  commercial  societies — in  attendance  upon  divine  wor- 
ship— he  gave  the  punctual  attendance  rarely  seen  but  in  those 
who  are  free  fn)m  the  weight  of  public  cares. 

Punctual  to  every  dufy,  death  found  him  at  the  post  of  duty  ; 


14 


CHARACTER    OF    MR.    ADAMS. 


and  where  else  could  it  have  found  him,  at  any  stage  of  his  ca- 
reer, for  the  fifty  years  of  his  illostrious  public  life  ?  From  the 
time  of  his  first  appointment  by  Washington  to  his  last  election 
by  the  people  of  his  native  town,  where  could  death  have  found 
him  but  at  the  post  of  duty  ?  At  that  post,  in  the  fullness  of  age, 
in  the  ripeness  of  renown,  crowned  with  honors,  surrounded  by 
his  family,  his  friends,  and  admirers,  and  in  the  very  presence  of 
the  national  representation,  ha  has  been  gathered  to  his  fathers, 
leaving  behind  him  the  memory  of  public  services  which  are  the 
history  of  his  country  for  half  a  century,  and  the  example  of  a 
life,  public  and  private,  w^hich  should  be  the  study  and  the  model 
of  the  generations  of  his  countrymen. 


POEMS 


THE   WANTS  OF    MAN.* 

''Man  wants  Imt  little  here  below, 
Nor  wants  that  little  long." — Goldsmith's  Hermit. 

I. 

"  M\N  wants  but  little  here  below, 

Ntir  wants  that  little  long."  * 

'Tis  not  with  me  exactly" so, 

But  'tis  so  in  the  song. 
My  wants  are  many,  and  if  told 

Would  muster  many  a  score ; 
And  were  each  wish  a  mint  of  gold, 

I  still  should  long  for  more. 

*  It  was  written  under  these  circumstances : — General  Ogle  informed 
Mr.  Adams  that  several  young  ladies  in  his  district  had  requested  him  to 
procure  Mr.  A.'s  autograph  for  them.  In  accordance  with  this  request, 
Mr.  Adams  wrote  the  following  bcautilul  poem  upon  '"The  Wants  of 
Man,"  each  attinza  upon  a  aheet  of  note  paper. 


16  TllE    WANTS    OF    MAN. 

II. 

What  first  I  want  is  daily  bread, 

And  canvas  backs  and  wine ; 
And  all  the  realms  of  nature  spread 

Before  me  when  I  dine. 
Four  courses  scarcely  can  provide 

My  appetite  to  quell, 
W^ith  four  choice  cooks  from  France,  beside. 

To  dress  my  dinner  well. 

III. 

What  next  I  want,  at  heavy  cost, 

Is  elegant  attire ; — 
Black  sable  furs,  for  winter's  frost. 

And  silks  for  summer's  fire. 
And  Cashmere  shawls,  and  Brussels  lace 

My  bosom's  front  to  deck, 
And  diamond  rings  my  hands  to  grace, 

And  rubies  for  my  neck. 

IV. 

And  then  I  want  a  mansion  fair, 

A  dwelling  house,  in  style. 
Four  stories  high,  for  wholesome  air — 

A  massive  marble  pile; 
With  halls  for  banquets  and  balls, 

All  furnished  ricV.  and  fine ; 
With  stabled  studs  in  fifty  stalls, 

And  cellars  for  my  wine. 


THE    WANTS    OF    MAN.  17 

V. 

I  want  a  garden  and  a  park, 

My  dwelling  to  surround — 
A  thousand  acres  (bless  the  mark), 

With  walls  encompassed  round — 
Where  flocks  may  range  and  herds  may  low, 

And  kids  and  lambkins  play, 
And  flowers  and  fruits  commingled  grow, 

All  Eden  to  display. 

VI. 
I  want,  when  summer's  foliage  falls, 

And  autumn  strips  the  trees, 
A  house  within  the  city's  walls, 

For  comfort  and  for  ease. 
But  here,  as  space  is  somewhat  scant, 

And  acres  somewhat  rare. 
My  house  in  town  I  only  want 

To  occupy a  square. 

VII. 
I  want  a  steward,  butler,  cooks; 

A  coachman,  footman,  grooms, 
A  library  of  well-bound  books. 

And  picture-ganiished  rooms; 
Corregios,  Magdalen,  and  Night, 

The  matron  of  the  chair ; 
fiuldo's  fleet  coursers  in  their  flight, 

And  Claudes  at  least  a  [)uir. 
'J* 


J8  THE    WANTS    OF    MAN. 

VIII. 
I  want  a  cabinet  profuse 

Of  medals,  coins,  and  gems; 
A  printing  press,  for  private  use, 

Of  fifty  thousand  ems  ; 
And  plants,  and  minerals,  and  shells; 

Worms,  insects,  fishes,  birds; 
And  every  beast  on  earth  that  dwells 

In  solitude  or  herds. 

IX. 

I  want  a  board  of  burnished  plate. 

Of  silver  and  of  gold  ; 
Tureens  of  twenty  pounds  in  weight, 

With  sculpture's  richest  mould ; 
Plateaus,  with  chandeliers  and  lamps, 

Plates,  dishes — all  the  same  ; 
And  porcelain  vases,  with  the  stamps 

Of  Sevres,  Angouleme. 

X. 

And  maples,  of  fair  glossy  stain, 

Must  form  my  chamber  doors. 
And  carpets  of  the  Wilton  grain 

Must  cover  all  my  floors  ; 
My  walls,  with  tapestry  bedeck'd. 

Must  never  be  outdone; 
And  damask  curtains  must  protect 

Their  colors  from  the  sun. 


THE    WANTS    OF    MAN.  19 

xr. 

And  mirrors  of  the  largest  pane 

From  Venice  must  be  brought; 
And  sandal-wood,  and  bamboo  cane, 

For  chairs  and  tables  bought ; 
On  all  the  mantel-pieces,  clocks 

Of  thrice-gilt  bronze  must  stand, 
And  screens  of  ebony  and  box 

Invite  the  stranger's  hand. 

XII. 
I  want  (who  does  not  want  ?)  a  wife, 

Affectionate  and  fair, 
To  solace  all  the  woes  of  life. 

And  all  ita  joys  to  share  ; 
Of  temper  sweet,  of  yielding  will. 

Of  firm,  yet  placid  mind, 
With  all  my  faults  to  love  me  still. 

With  sentiment  refiu'd. 

XIII. 
And  as  Time's  car  incessant  runs, 

And  Fortune  fills  my  store, 
I  want  of  daughters  and  of  sods 

From  eight  to  half  a  score. 
I  want  (alas !  can  mortal  dare 

Such  bliss  on  earth  to  crave  ?) 
That  all  the  girls  be  chaste  and  fair — 

The  bf)y8  all  wise  and  brave. 


20  THE    WANTS    OF   MAN. 

XIV. 
And  when  my  bosom's  darling  sings, 

With  melody  divine, 
A  pedal  harp  of  many  strings 

Must  with  her  voice  combine. 
A  piano,  exquisitely  wrought. 

Must  open  stand,  apart. 
That  all  my  daughters  may  be  taught 

To  win  the  stranger's  heart. 

XV. 
My  wife  and  daughters  will  desire 

Refreshment  from  perfumes, 
Cosmetics  for  the  skin  require, 

And  artificial  blooms. 
The  civit  fragrance  shall  dispense, 

And  treasur'd  sweets  return ; 
Cologne  revive  the  flagging  sense, 

And  smoking  amber  burn. 

XVI. 
And  when  at  night  my  weary  head 

Begins  to  droop  and  dose, 
A  southern  chamber  holds  my  bed. 

For  nature's  soft  repose ; 
With  blankets,  counterpanes,  and  sheet, 

Mattrass,  and  bed  of  down. 
And  comfortables  for  my  feet, 

And  pillows  for  my  crown. 


TUE    WANTS    OF    MAN.  21 

XVII. 
I  want  a  warm  and  faithful  friend, 

To  cheer  the  adverse  hour, 
Who  ne'er  to  flatter  will  descend. 

Nor  bend  the  knee  to  power ; 
A  friend  to  chide  me  when  I'm  wrong, 

My  inmost  soul  to  see ; 
And  that  my  friendship  prove  as  strong 

For  him,  as  his  for  roe. 

XVIII. 
I  want  a  kind  and  tender  heart, 

For  others  wants  to  feel ; 
A  soul  secure  from  Fortune's  dart, 

And  bosom  arm'd  with  steel ; 
To  bear  di\nne  chastisement's  rod. 

And  mingling  in  my  plan, 
•Submission  to  the  will  of  God, 

Willi  charity  to  man. 

XIX. 
I  want  a  keen,  observing  eye, 

An  ever-listening  ear, 
The  truth  through  all  disguise  to  spy. 

And  wisdom's  voice  to  hear; 
A  tongue,  to  speak  at  virtue's  need, 

In  Heaven's  sublimest  strain  ; 
And  li{>s,  the  cause  of  man  to  plead, 

Anil  nt'VLT  pltTid  in  vain. 


22  THE   WANTS   OF   MAN, 

XX. 

I  want  uninterrupted  health, 

Throughout  my  long  career, 
And  streams  of  never-failing  wealth, 

To  scatter  far  and  near ; 
The  destitute  to  clothe  and  feed, 

Free  bounty  to  bestow ; 
Supply  the  helpless  orphan^s  need, 

And  soothe  the  widow's  woe, 

XXI. 

I  want  the  genius  to  conceive, 

The  talents  to  unfold, 
Designs,  the  vicious  to  retrieve, 

The  virtuous  to  uphold  ; 
Inventive  power,  combining  skill, 

A  persevering  soul. 
Of  human  hearts  to  mould  the  will, 

And  reach  from  pole  to  pole. 

XXII. 
I  want  the  seals  of  power  and  place. 

The  ensigns  of  command. 
Charged  by  the  people's  unbought  grace. 

To  rule  my  native  land. 
Nor  crown,  nor  sceptre  would  I  ask 

But  from  my  country's  will, 
3y  day,  by  night,  to  ply  the  task 

Her  cup  of  bliss  to  fill 


TTTK    WANTS    OF    MAN.  23 

XXIIT. 
T  want  the  voice  of  honest  praise 

To  follow  me  behind, 
And  to  be  thought  in  future  days 

The  friend  of  human  kind  ; 
That  after  ages,  as  they  rise, 

Exulting  may  proclaim, 
In  choral  union  to  the  skies. 

Their  blessings  on  my  name 

XXIV. 
These  are  the  wants  of  mortal  man ; 

I  cannot  want  them  long, 
For  life  itself  is  but  a  span. 

And  earthly  bliss  a  song. 
My  last  great  want,  absorbing  all, 

Is,  when  beneath  the  sod, 
And  summon'd  to  my  final  call. 

The  mercy  of  my  God. 

XXV. 

And  oh  !  while  circles  in  my  veins 

Of  life  the  purple  stream. 
And  yet  a  fragment  small  remains 

Of  nature*8  transient  dream, 
My  soul,  in  humble  hope  unscar'd, 

Forget  not  thou  to  pray, 
That  this  thy  want  may  be  prepared 

To  meet  llic  .Judgment  Day. 


24  THE  PLAGUE  IN  THE  FOREST. 


THE  PLAGUE  IN  THE  FOREST. 

Time  was,  when  round  the  lion's  den, 

A  peopled  city  raised  its  head  ; 
'Twas  not  inhabited  by  men. 

But  by  four-footed  beasts  instead. 
The  lynx,  the  leopard,  and  the  bear, 
The  tiger  and  the  wolf,  were  there ; 

The  hoof-defended  steed  ; 
The  bull,  prepared  with  horns  to  gore, 
The  cat  with  claws,  the  tusky  boar. 

And  all  the  canine  breed. 


In  social  compact  thus  combined, 

Together  dwelt  the  beasts  of  prey  ; 
Their  murderous  weapons  all  resigned, 

And  vowed  each  other  not  to  slay. 
Among  them  Reynard  thrust  his  phiz  ; 
Not  hoof,  nor  horn,  nor  tusk  was  his, 

For  warfare  all  unfit ; 
He  whispered  to  the  royal  dunce, 
And  gained  a  settlement  at  once  ; 

His  weapon  was, — his  wit. 


THE    PLAGUE    IN    THE    FOREST.  25 

One  summer,  by  some  fatal  spell, 

(Plicpbiis  was  peevish  for  some  scoff,) 
The  plague  upou  that  city  fell, 

And  swept  the  beasts  by  thousands  oflT. 
The  lion,  as  became  his  part, 
Loved  his  own  people  from  his  heart, 

And  taking  counsel  sage, 
His  peerage  summoned  to  advise 
And  offer  up  a  sacrifice. 

To  soothe  Apollo's  rage. 

Quoth  lion,  "  We  are  sinners  all, 

And  even  it  must  be  confessed, 
If  among  sheep  I  chance  to  fall, — 

I,  I  am  guilty  as  the  rest. 
To  me  the  sight  of  lamb  is  curst, 
It  kindles  in  my  throat  a  thirst, — 

I  struggle  to  refrain, — 
Poor  innocent !  his  blood  so  sweet ! 
His  flesh  so  delicate  to  eat ! 

I  find  resistance  vain. 


"  Now  to  be  candid,  I  must  own 

The  sheep  are  weak  and  I  am  strong, 

But  when  we  find  ourselves  alone. 

The  sheep  have  never  done  me  wrong. 

And,  since  I  purpose  to  reveal 

All  my  (»frenre8,  nor  conceal 


20  THE  PLAGUE  IN  THE  FOREST, 

One  trespass  from  your  view  ; 
My  appetite  is  made  so  keen, 
That  with  the  sheep  the  time  has  been 

I  took, — the  shepherd  too. 

'*  Then  let  us  all  our  sins  confess. 

And  whosesoe'er  the  blackest  guilt, 
To  ease  my  people's  deep  distress, 

Let  his  atoning  blood  be  spilt. 
My  own  confession  now  you  hear, 
Should  none  of  deeper  dye  appear. 

Your  sentence  freely  give  ; 
And  if  on  me  should  fall  the  lot, 
Make  me  the  victim  on  the  spot, 

And  let  my  people  live." 

The  council  with  applauses  rung. 

To  hear  the  Codrus  of  the  wood  ; 
Though  still  some  doubt  suspended  hung, 

If  he  would  make  his  promise  good, — 
Quoth  Reynard, — "  Since  the  world  was  madsi 
Was  ever  love  like  this  displayed  ? 

Let  us  like  subjects  true 
Swear,  as  before  your  feet  we  fall. 
Sooner  than  you  should  die  for  all, 

We  all  will  die  for  you. 

*'  But  please  your  majesty,  I  deem, 
Submissive  to  your  royal  grace. 


THE  PLAGUE  IN  THE  FOREST.  27 

You  hold  iu  far  too  liigli  esteem 

That  paltry,  poltroon,  sheepish  race  ; 
For  oft,  reflecting  in  the  shade, 
I  ask  myself  why  sheep  were  made 

By  all-creating  power  ? 
And  howsoe'er  I  tax  my  mind, 
This  the  sole  reason  I  can  find, 

For  Hons  to  devour. 

*'  And  as  for  eating  now  and  then, 

As  well  the  shepherd  as  the  sheep,— 
How  can  that  braggart  breed  of  men 

Expect  with  you  the  peace  to  keep  ? 
Tis  time  their  blustering  boast  to  stem, 
That  all  the  world  was  made  for  them, 

And  prove  creation's  plan  ; 
Teach  them  by  evidence  profiise 
That  man  was  made  for  lion's  use, 

Not  lions  made  for  man."  . 

And  now  the  noble  peers  begin, 

And,  cheered  with  such  examples  bright, 
Disclosing  each  his  secret  sin, 

Some  midnight  murder  brought  to  light; 
Reynard  wais  counsel  for  them  all, 
No  crime  the  assembly  could  appal. 

But  he  could  botch  with  paint : 
Hark  !  as  his  honeyed  accents  roll, 
Each  tiger  is  a  gentle  soul : 

Each  blood-hound  is  a  saint. 


28  THE  PLAGUE  IN  THE  FOREST. 

When  each  had  told  his  tale  in  turn, 

The  long-eared  beast  of  burden  came 
And  meekly  said,  *'  My  bowels  yearn 

To  make  confession  of  my  shame ; 
But  I  remember  on  a  time 
I  passed,  not  thinking  of  a  crime, 

A  haystack  on  my  way : 
His  lure  some  tempting  devil  spread, 
I  stretched  across  the  fence  my  head, 

And  cropped, — a  lock  of  hay.*' 

*'  Oh,  monster  !  villain !"  Reynard  cried,- 

*'  No  longer  seek  the  victim,  sire  ; 
Nor  why  your  subjects  thus  have  died, 

To  expiate  Apollo's  ire." 
The  council  with  one  voice  decreed  ; 
All  joined  to  execrate  the  deed, — 

**  What,  steal  another's  grass  !" 
The  blackest  crime  their  lives  could  show, 
Was  washed  as  white  as  virgin  enow  ; 

The  victim  was, — The  Ass. 


TO    A    BEREAVED    MOTHER.  29 


TO  A  BEREAVED  MOTHER* 

Sure,  to  the  mansions  of  the  blest 

When  infant  innocence  ascends, 
Some  angel,  brighter  than  the  rest, 

The  spotless  spirit's  flight  attends. 
On  wings  of  ecstasy  they  rise, 

Beyond  where  worlds  material  roll ; 
Till  some  fair  sister  of  the  skies 

Receives  the  unpolluted  soul. 

That  inextinguishable  beam, 

With  dust  united  at  our  birth. 
Sheds  a  more  dim,  discolor'd  gleam 

The  more  it  lingers  upon  earth. 
Closed  in  this  dark  abode  of  clay, 

The  stream  of  glory  faintly  bums : — 
Not  unobserved,  the  lucid  ray 

To  its  own  native  fount  returns. 

But  when  the  Lord  of  mortal  breath 

Decrees  his  bounty  to  resume, 
And  points  the  silent  shaft  of  death 

Which  speeds  an  infant  to  the  tomb — 
3' 


30  TO   A    BEREAVED    BIOTHER. 

No  passion  fierce,  nor  low  desire, 

Has  quenched  the  radiance  of  the  flame ; 

Back  to  its  God  the  living  fire 
Reverts,  unclouded  as  it  came. 


Fond  mourner  !  be  that  solace  thine  ! 

Let  hope  her  healing  charm  impart, 
And  soothe,  w^ith  melodies  divine, 

The  anguish  of  a  mother's  heart. 
O,  think  !  the  darlings  of  thy  love, 

Divested  of  this  earthly  clod. 
Amid  unnumber'd  saints  above, 

Bask  in  the  bosom  of  their  God. 


Of  their  short  pilgrimage  on  earth 

Still  tender  images  remain  : 
Slill,  still  they  bless  thee  for  their  birth, 

Still  filial  gratitude  retain. 
Each  anxious  care,  each  rending  sigh. 

That  wrung  for  them  the  parent's  breast. 
Dwells  on  remembrance  in  the  sky. 

Amid  the  raptures  of  the  blest. 


O'er  thee,  with  looks  of  love,  they  bend ; 

For  thee  the  Lord  of  life  implore  ; 
And  oft,  from  sainted  bliss  descend. 

Thy  wounded  quiet  to  restore. 


TO    A    BEREAVED    MOTHEU. 


•1 


Oft,  in  the  stillness  of  tlie  ni^ht, 

They  smooth  tlie  pillow  of  thy  bed  ; 

Oft,  till  the  morn's  returning  light, 
"Still  watchful  hover  o'er  thy  head. 


Hark  !  in  such  strains  as  saints  employ, 

They  whisper  to  thy  bosom  peace  ; 
Calm  the  perturbed  heart  to  joy, 

And  bid  the  streaming  sorrow  cease. 
Then  dry,  henceforth,  the  bitter  tear : 

Their  part  and  thine  inverted  see  : — 
Thou  wert  their  guardian  angel  here. 

They  guardian  angels  now  to  thee. 


32  CHARLES   THE   FIFTH's   CLOCKS. 


CHARLES  THE  FIFTH'S  CLOCKS. 

With  Charles  the  Fifth  art  thou  acquauited,  reader  ? 

Of  Ferdinand  and  Isabel  the  grandson, 

In  ages  past  of  Europe's  realms  file  leader, 

Among  the  mightiest  of  all  ages,  one. 

Spain,  Germany,  his  sceptre  swayed. 

With  feet  victorious  over  France  he  trod, 

Afric'  and  Italy  his  laws  obeyed. 

And  either  India  trembled  at  his  nod. 

Well,  reader,  this  same  monarch  miglity, 

Like  many  of  his  stamp  before, 

Down  to  the  latest  of  the  set 

Whose  names  I  leave  in  blank,  as  yet ! 

And  with  Napoleon  you  may  fill, 

Or  Alexander,  as  you  will ; 

Charles,  seated  upon  all  his  thrones, 

With  all  his  crowns  upon  his  head, 

Built  piles  on  piles  of  human  bones. 

As  if  he  meant  to  reign  the  sovereign  of  the  dead. 

He  kept  the  world  in  uproar  forty  years, 

And  waded  bloody  oceans  through ; 

Feasted  on  widows'  and  on  orphans'  tears, 

And  cities  sacked,  and  millions  slew. 


J 


CHARLES  THE  fifth's  clocks.  33 

And  all  the  pranks  of  conquering  heroes  play'd, 

A  master  workman  at  the  royal  trade, 

The  recipe  approved  time  out  of  mind. 

To  win  the  hearts  of  all  mankind. 

But  heroes,  too,  get  weary  of  their  trade ; 

Charles  had  a  conscience,  and  grew  old  ; 

The  gout  sometimes  an  ugly  visit  paid ; 

A  voice  within  unwelcome  stories  told, 

That  heroes,  just  like  common  men, 

One  day  must  die  ;  and  then 

Of  what  might  happen  Charles  was  sore  afraid. 

Of  Charles's  wars,  need  little  here  be  said ; 

Their  causes  were  ambition,  avarice,  pride, 

Despotic  empire  o'er  the  world  to  spread, 

Revenge  on  Francis,  who  proclaimed  he  lied, 

And  chiefly  Luther's  heresies  to  quell ; 

To  prove  the  wrong  of  Reformation 

With  fire,  and  sword,  and  desolation, 

And  save  the  souls  of  Protestants  from  hell. 

But  when  the  humor  came  to  save  his  own, 

Charles  stripp'd  oflf  all  his  royal  robes. 

Dismissed  his  double  globes, 

Cast  down  his  crowns,  descended  from  his  throne, 

And  with  St.  Jerome's  monks  retired,  to  die  alone. 

Charles  had  a  maggot  in  the  mind. 

Restless,  that  needs  must  be  of  something  thinking  f 

And  now,  to  keep  his  spirits  from  sinking. 

Employment  often  at  a  loss  to  find, 

Much  of  his  time  he  spent  in  prayer ; 


1 


34  CHARLES    THE    FIFTh's    CLOCKS. 

In  penance  for  his  evil  deeds, 

In  saying  masses,  and  in  telling  beads; 

In  self-chastisement,  till  he  bled 

A  drop  for  every  ton  of  others  shed ; 

And  much  bis  little  garden  claim'd  his  care, 

In  planting  cabbages  and  plucking  seeds ; 

But  these  were  simple  occupations, 

And  Charles,  so  long  in  empire's  toils  immersed, 

So  deep  in  all  their  intricacies  vers'd, 

Some  pastime  needed,  full  of  complications. 

So  long  his  study  had  been  manj 

His  sport,  his  victim,  man,  of  flesh  and  blood, 

That  now  with  art  mechanic  he  began 

To  fashion  manakins  of  wood. 

Soon  he  became  a  skilful  mechanician, 

And  made  his  mimic  men  with  so  much  art, 

They  made  St.  Jerome's  friars  start, 

And  think  their  royal  master  a  magician, 
Leagued  with  the  mother  of  all  evil ; 

Like  Dr.  Faustus,  soul-bound  to  the  devil. 

At  last  the  fancy  seized  his  brain, 

Of  perfect  instruments  for  keeping  time. 

Watches  and  clocks  he  made,  but  all  in  vain ; 

He  never  could  succeed  to  make  them  chime. 

With  choice  chronometers  he  lin'd  his  cell ; 

No  two  at  once  would  ever  ring  the  bell. 

Now  mark  the  moral  of  my  tale. 

Which  flash 'd  in  sunbeams  upon  Charles's  aoul ; 

When  he  whose  chisel  could  prevail 


CHARLKS    THE    FIFTH  S   CLOCKS. 


85 


Man's  outward  actions  to  control, 
So  that  his  puppets  seemed  as  good 
As  living  men,  though  made  of  wood, 
Yet  ever  baffled  found  his  skill 
To  mould  two  watches  to  his  will. 
He  smote  his  bosom  with  a  sigh, 
Exclaiming,  "  What  a  dolt  was  I, 
By  force  constraining  men  to  think  alike. 
And  cannot  make  two  clocks  together  st 


H^i^^ 


36  RETROSPECTION. 


RETROSPECTION. 

When  life's  fair  dream  has  passed  away 

To  three  score  years  aud  ten, 
Before  we  turn  again  to  clay 

The  lot  of  mortal  men, 
'Tis  wise  a  backward  eye  to  cast 

On  life's  revolving  scene, 
With  calmness  to  review  the  past 

And  ask  what  we  have  been. 

The  cradle  and  the  mother's  breast 

Have  vanish'd  from  the  mind, 
Of  joys  the  sweetest  and  the  best, 

Nor  left  a  trace  behind. 
Maternal  tenderness  and  care 

Were  lavished  all  in  vain — 
Of  bliss,  whatever  was  our  share 

No  vestiges  remain. 

Far  distant,  like  a  beacon  light 
On  ocean's  boundless  waste, 
A  single  spot  appears  in  sight 
Yet  indistinctly  traced. 


RETROSPKCTION. 


37 


Some  mimic  stage's  thrilling  cry, 

Some  agony  of  fear, 
Some  painted  wonder  to  the  eye, 

Some  trumpet  to  the  ear. 


These  are  the  first  events  of  life 

That  fasten  on  the  brain. 
And  through  the  world's  incessant  strife 

Indelible  remain. 
They  form  the  link  with  ages  past 

From  former  worlds  a  gleam ; 
With  murky  vapors  overcast, 

The  net-work  of  a  dream. 
4 


38  TO  THE  SUN-DIAL. 


TO  THE  SUN-DIAL, 

UNDER  THE  WINDOW  OF  THE  HALL  OF  THE  HOUSE  OF  REPRESENT- 

ATIVES  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES. 

Thou  silent  herald  of  Time's  silent  flight ! 

Say,  could'st  thou  speak,  what  warning  voice  were  thine  T 

Shade,  who  canst  only  show  how  others  shine  ! 
Dark,  sullen  witness  of  resplendent  light 
In  day's  broad  glare,  and  when  the  moontide  bright 

Of  laughing  fortune  sheds  the  ray  divine. 

Thy  ready  favors  cheer  us — but  decline 
The  clouds  of  morning  and  the  gloom  of  night. 
Yet  are  thy  counsels  faithful,  just,  and  wise ; 

They  bid  us  seize  the  moments  as  they  pass — 
Snatch  the  retrieveless  sunbeam  as  it  flies, 

Nor  lose  one  sand  of  life's  revolving  glass — 
Aspiring  still,  with  energy  sublime, 
By  virtuous  dee  ds  to  give  eternity  to  Time. 


THE   THIRTEENTH   SATIRE   OF   JUVENAL.  39 


THE  THIRTEENTH  SATIRE  OF  JUVENAL.* 

From  Virtue's  paths,  when  hapless  men  depart, 
The  first  avenger  is  the  culprit's  heart ; 
There  sits  a  judge,  from  whose  severe  decree 
No  strength  can  rescue,  and  no  speed  can  flee ; 
A  judge,  unbiassed  by  the  quibbling  tribe  ! 
A  judge,  whom  India's  treasures  cannot  bribe. 

Calvin,  what  thinkest  thou  the  world  will  say, 
To  see  thy  faithless  friend  his  trust  betray  1 
Yet,  to  thy  fortune,  is  the  breach  but  small ; 
Thy  purse  will  scarcely  feel  the  loss  at  all ; 
Nor  are  examples  of  such  baseness  rare  ! 
'Tis  what  in  common  with  thee  thousands  bear ; 
A  single  drop  of  water  from  the  deep  ! 
A  single  grain  from  fortune's  boundless  heap. 

Excessive  sorrow  let  us  then  restrain  : 
A  man  should  measure  by  the  wound  his  pain  ! 

•  The  Aboument. — Calvinus  had  deposited  a  flum  of  money  In  the 
hands  of  a  friend,  who,  upon  being  required  to  restore  it,  denied  having 
CTcr  received  the  trust.  Calvinus  appears  to  have  been  too  much  affected 
at  this  incident,  and  Juvenal  addressed  to  him  this  Satire,  containing  topic* 
of  consolation  to  Calvinus  for  his  loss,  and  of  reproof  for  the  extreme 
•ontibility  be  had  manifested  upon  th«  occasioo. 


40  THE   THIRTEENTH   SATIRE   OF   JUVENAL. 

Though  keen  thy  sense,  the  smallest  ill  to  meet, 
Must  thy  blood  boil  to  find  thy  friend  a  cheat  ? 
The  sacred  trust  committed  he  denies — 
But,  at  thy  age,  can  treachery  surprise  ? 
When  threescore  winters  thou  hast  left  behind, 
To  long  experience  art  thou  still  so  blind  ? 

Great,  and  prevailing  is  the  sacred  lore. 
Which  Wisdom,  Fortune's  victress,  has  in  store ; 
But  we  consider  likewise  those  as  blest. 
Who  meet  the  woes  of  life  with  placid  breast ; 
Bred  in  life's  school,  who  bend  beneath  her  sway, 
Nor  from  her  yoke  would  draw  their  necks  away. 

Is  there  a  day  so  festive  through  the  year, 
But  frequent  frauds  and  perfidies  appear  ? 
A  single  day,  but  sees  triumphant  vice 
With  lurking  dagger,  or  with  loaded  dice  ? 

Small  is  the  train  who  honor's  path  pursue ; 
The  friends  of  virtue  are  a  chosen  few — 
So  few,  that  gathering  o'er  the  spacious  earth 
A  full  collection  of  untainted  worth, 
Scarce  could  you  find  a  number,  free  from  guile, 
To  match  the  gates  of  Thebes,  or  mouths  of  Nile. 

Such  are  the  horrors  of  our  modem  times, 
They  bleach  the  blackness  of  all  former  crimes. 
The  age  of  iron  has  long  since  been  past, 
And  four  lesides,  each  blacker  than  the  last ; 
A  ninth  succeeds,  compared  with  which,  of  old, 
The  age  of  iron  was  an  age  of  gold ; 
An  age,  which  nature  dares  not  even  name, 


THE    TUIRTEENTH    SATIRE    OF    JUVENAL.  41 

Nor  yields  a  metal  to  express  its  shame. 
The  faith  of  gods  and  men  our  lips  attest, 
Loud  as  a  great  mau's  pimps  applaud  his  jest. 
But  hoary  infant;  art  thou  still  to  know 
With  what  bright  charms  another's  treasures  glow  T 
Go  !  fetch  the  rattle  of  thy  childhood,  go  ! 
What  peals  of  laughter  rise  on  every  side ! 
How  all  the  town  thy  simpleness  deride  ! 
To  see  thee  ask,  and  with  a  serious  brow, 
That  any  mortal  be  not  perjured  now ; 
To  see  thee  now,  of  any  man  require 
Faith  in  a  god,  and  terror  of  hell-fire. 
These  tenets  truly  our  forefathers  held. 
Ere  from  this  throne  old  Saturn  was  expelled. 
Before  he  laid  his  diadem  aside. 
And  in  the  rustic  sickle  took  a  pride. 
While  Ida*8  caves  were  yet  the  haunts  of  Jove, 
Nor  virgin  Juno,  conscious  of  his  love. 
No  revels  then  were  ever  seen  to  rise 
Among  the  heavenly  tenants  of  the  skies  ; 
No  Trojan  boy,  no  Hebe's  form  divine, 
To  fill  the  goblets  with  inflaming  wine  ; 
With  unwashed  hands,  no  smutty  Vulcan  came 
To  quaff  the  nectar,  from  his  anvil's  flame. 
f^ch  god  was  then  content  to  dine  alone, 
Nor  was  our  motley  mob  of  god-heads  known  ; 
Small  were  the  numbers  of  the  blest  abode  ; 
Nor  weighed  down  wretched  Atlas  with  the  load ; 
No  gloomy  Pluto  ruled  the  realms  of  shade, 
4* 


4i  THE   THIRTEENTH    SATIRE    OF   JUVENAL. 

Nor  yet  had  ravished  the  Sicih'an  maid. 
Hell  then  no  wheel,  no  rock,  no  furies  bore, 
No  vulture's  pounces  dripped  with  ghostly  gore 
But  cheerful  spirits  ranged  the  valleys  gay. 
Nor  of  infernal  monarchs  owned  the  sway. 
A  fraud  was  held  a  w^onder  in  that  age ; 
And  in  the  presence  of  a  hoary  sage, 
Had  any  younger  man  to  rise  forborne, 
However  blest  with  ampler  stores  of  corn. 
To  them  a  crime  of  dye  so  black  it  seemed, 
As  by  naught  else  but  death  could  be  redeemed. 
The  like  respect  by  beardless  boys  was  shown 
To  those  whose  faces  were  but  just  o'ergrown ; 
Such  awe  four  years  precedence  could  engage, 
And  youth's  first  blossom  bore  the  fruits  of  age  . 

Now,  if  your  friend  should  not  betray  his  trust, 
But  give  you  back  your  coins  with  all  their  rust, 
It  seems  a  miracle  of  higher  strain, 
Than  all  the  Tuscan  sybil  books  contain, 
And,  in  memorial  of  so  strange  a  deed, 
A  votive  lamb  should  on  the  altar  bleed. 
If  now  mine  eyes  a  man  of  virtue  greet, 
I  think  a  double-headed  child  to  meet 
Not  more  surprising  were  it  to  behold 
A  plough-share  dig  up  fish,  or  mules  with  foal ; 
Rain  fall  in  pebbles,  or  in  wildest  shapes 
Bees,  clustering  on  a  temple's  roof  like  grapes, 
Or  rivers,  rushing  with  tremendous  sweep. 
To  pour  a  milky  torrent  in  the  deep. 


THE    THIRTEENTH    SATIRE    OF    JUVENAL.  43 

The  loss  of  fifty  ducats  yon  deplore, 
See  your  uext  neighbor  filched  of  ten  limes  more  ; 
By  a  like  fniud  behold  a  third  complain 
His  loss  of  all  his  strong-box  could  contain. 
So  prone,  so  ready  are  we  to  despise 
The  ^iI)gle  testimonial  of  the  skies, 
Unless  a  mortal  sanction  too  be  given. 
And  man  confirm  the  evidence  o{  Heaven  ! 
Look  !  with  what  seeming  punty  of  breast 
And  steady  face  he  dares  his  faith  attest 
Swears  by  the  solar  beams,  the  bolts  of  Jove, 
And  thy  full  quiver,  huntress  of  the  grove  ; 
By  Mars'  lance,  Apollo's  arrows  drear, 
By  Neptune's  trident,  and  Minerva's  spear, 
Alcides'  bow,  and  whatsoe'er  beside 
From  all  heaven's  arsenal  can  be  supplied  ; 
And,  if  a  father — sooner  be  my  food 
My  infant's  flesh,  he  cries,  my  drink  his  blood  ! 

There  are  who  deem  that  Fortune  governs  all ; 
That  no  Supreme  Disposer  rules  the  ball ; 
That  Nature's  energies  alone  suffice 
To  make  successive  days  and  seasons  rise ; 
Hence,  with  intrepid  brow,  such  men  as  these 
To  sanction  falsehood,  any  altar  seize. 

Another  trembles  lest  the  vengeance  due, 
Of  gods  offended,  should  his  crimes  pursue  ; 
Believes  in  gods,  yet  stains  with  guilt  his  soul, 
Aud  thus  attempts  his  terrors  to  control 
*•  Deal  with  my  body  as  thou  wilt,"  ho  crie^, 


44  THE   THIRTEENTH   SATIRE   OF   JUVENAL. 

**  Great  Isis  !  and  with  blindness  strike  my  eyes, 
If  peacefully,  though  blind,  I  may  but  hold 
The  price  of  perjury,  the  pilfered  gold. 
What  is  a  palsied  side,  a  broken  leg, 
Compared  with  indigence,  compelled  to  beg 
The  fleetest  runner  would,  beyond  a  doubt, 
Give  all  his  swiftness  for  a  wealthy  gout ; 
Nay,  should  he  hesitate  in  such  a  case, 
Send  for  his  doctor  and  his  waistcoat  lace ; 
For  what  can  all  his  racing  talent  boot  ? 
A  hungry  stomach  and  a  nimble  foot. 
And  what  avails  the  olive  round  his  head. 
While  puffed  with  glory,  he  must  pine  for  bread  7 
The  anger  of  the  gods,  though  great,  is  slow ; 
Nor  will  their  mercy  doom  to  endless  woe ; 
And  if  they  punish  every  guilty  soul, 
Before  my  turn  comes  what  long  years  may  roll! 
Perhaps  their  wrath  is  pacified  with  ease, 
And  oft  they  overlook  such  faults  as  these ; 
For  the  same  deed,  as  good  or  ill  luck  reigns, 
One  wields  a  sceptre,  and  one  hangs  in  chains.* 
Thus  having  lulled  his  conscience  to  repose. 
Before  you  to  the  sacred  fane  he  goes ; 
Nay,  drags  you  thither,  with  indignant  ear 
The  oath  of  fraud  and  pei-fidy  to  hear ; 
For,  with  the  multitude,  guilt's  face  of  brass 
For  conscious  innocence  will  often  pass. 
See !  how  he  lays  his  hand  upon  his  heart, 
And  like  a  finished  actor  plays  his  part ! 


THE    THIRTEKNTH    SATIRE    OF    JUVENAL.  45 

You,  pliHuler'd  of  your  trust,  with  piercing  cries, 
la  vain,  with  voice  hke  Stentor,  rend  the  skies, 
Or  rather,  hke  old  Ht)mer'8  Mars  exclaim, 
"  Hear'st  thou  all  this,  great  Jove,  in  silence  tame, 
When  all  thy  fury,  at  such  vows  accurst, 
From  lips  of  brass  or  marble  ought  to  burst  7 
Else,  wherefore  bums  our  incense  at  thy  shrine  ? 
Why,  on  thy  altars,  bleed  the  calves  or  swine  ? 
Since  no  distinction,  I  perceive,  were  just. 
Between  your  statues  and  a  dancer's  bust." 

Yet  bear  what  comfort  an  unlettered  friend, 
Thoui:h  from  no  school  derived,  can  recommend  ; 
\Vho  never  made  the  cynic  rule  his  own, 
Nor  that  of  stoics,  differing  but  in  gown; 
Nor  yet  has  learned  the  maxims  to  obey 
Of  Epicurus,  in  his  garden  gay. 
When  dire  diseases  rack  your  feeble  frame. 
Call  fur  some  doctor  of  distinguished  fame  ; 
But  in  a  case  like  yours,  of  trifling  pain. 
To  Philip's  pupil  you  may  trust  your  vein. 

Expressly  show  that  since  the  world  began 
A  deed  so  base  was  never  done  by  man ; 
Then,  I  object  no  longer,  tear  your  hair. 
And  beat  your  face  and  bosom  in  despair; 
At  such  a  dread  misfortune  close  your  gates, 
With  lamentation  loud  accuse  the  Fates, 
Heave  deeper  groan.^,  tears  more  abundant  shed 
For  money  pilfered  than  a  father  dead. 
No  man  in  this  cfise  f«?igns  of  grief  r\  show; 


46  THE    THIRTEEXTIl    SATIKS    OF    JUVENAL. 

Content  to  wear  the  formal  suits  of  woe, 
And  fret  his  eyes  to  strain  a  seeming  tear, 
No !  for  lost  gold  our  sorrows  are  sincere ! 

But  if  the  like  complaint  with  yours  you  meet, 
Where'er  you  turn  your  eyes  in  every  street ; 
If  every  day  shows  men  who  boldly  dare 
Their  own  hand-writing  to  a  bond  forswear ; 
Proved  by  ten  witnesses  their  deed  deny. 
And  gravely  give  their  solemn  seal  the  lie, 
Must  thou  from  common  miseries  be  free  ? 
And  art  thou  formed  of  better  clay  than  we  ? 
Thou,  favored  by  the  gods  with  special  grace ; 
We,  the  vile  refuse  of  a  worthless  race  ? 

Thine  eyes  to  crimes  of  deeper  baseness  turn. 
And  thy  small  loss  to  bear  with  patience  learn  ; 
See  this  man's  slave  with  robber  bands  conspire, 
Behold  that  mansion  blaze  with  bidden  fire : 
See,  from  yon  antique  temple  stolen  away, 
The  massive  goblet,  venerably  gray ! 
Gifts  from  which  nations  once  derived  renown. 
Or  some  old  monarch's  consecrated  crown. 
Are  these  not  there  1  behold  the  villain  ply 
To  rasp  the  gilding  from  Alcides'  thigh. 
Strike  off  the  nose  from  Neptune's  aged  form, 
Or  strip  the  bracelet  from  young  Castor's  arm ; 
Why  should  he  dread  of  minor  gods  the  frown. 
Wont  the  whole  thunderer  bravely  to  melt  down  *? 

The  guilt  of  blood  see  other  wretches  share, 
And  (.me  the  poison  sell,  and  one  prepare  I 


THE    THIRTr.ENTII    SATIRE    OF    JUVENAL.  47 

See,  to  a  harmless,  hapless,  monkey  lied, 

Plunged  in  the  briny  deep  the  parricide; 

Yet  in  this  list  how  small  a  part  appear 

Of  all  the  crimes  that  meet  the  Prjplor's  ear, 

And  he  from  Hesper's  dawn  till  closing  day  must  hear. 

The  manners  of  mankind  wouldst  thou  be  taught, 

With  full  instruction  that  one  house  is  fraught ; 

But  a  few  days  attend  the  trials  there, 

And  then  to  call  thyself  unhappy,  dare. 

Who  feels  astonishment  affect  his  mind 
Amidst  the  Alps  a  tumid  throat  to  find  7 
Or  who  behold  in  Meroe,  with  surprise, 
A  dug  surpass  the  child  it  feeds  in  size  7 
On  seeing  Germans,  who  would  think  to  stare 
At  azure  eves  and  golden-colored  hair, 
And  crisped  locks,  with  rnntments  which  distill? 
Such  they  were  made  by  Nature's  sovereign  wiU 
Clap  but  a  cloud  of  Tliracian  cranes  their  wings, 
Lo!  to  his  arms  the  pigmy  warrior  springs! 
But  soon,  unequal  to  resistance,  flies, 
Clenched  in  relentless  clutches  through  the  skies. 
Among  ourselves  a  sight  like  this  w^ould  make 
Your  sides,  no  doubt,  with  ceaseless  laughter  shake ; 
But  there,  though  common,  'tis  no  laughing  sight. 
Where  the  whole  tribe  is  not  a  foot  in  height, 

**  But  shall  the  wretch  all  penalties  evade, 
For  friendship  perjur'd,  and  for  trust  betrayed?'* 
Suppose  him  seized,  in  chains,  and  at  your  will, 
(What  would  vindirlive  anger  more?)  to  kill  ; 


48  THE    THIRTEENTH    SATIUE   OF   JUVENAL. 

Yet  would  your  damage  still  the  same  remain, 
Nor  could  his  death  restore  the  trust  again ; 
How  poor  a  comfort,  to  relieve  your  woe. 
The  blood  that  from  his  headless  trunk  would  flow  ! 

"  But  vengeance,  even  more  than  life,  is  sweet ;" 
Yes  !  to  those  minds  of  heedless,  headlong  heat, 
Which  blaze  at  every  spark,  however  small. 
And  often  kindle  without  cause  at  all : 
Not  Thales  thus,  nor  thus  Chrysippus  speaks, 
Not  thus  the  best  and  wisest  of  the  Greeks — 
The  godlike  Socrates — who,  galled  with  chains, 
To  share  the  hemlock  with  his  foe  disdains. 
True  wisdom  points  to  virtue's  path,  and  frees 
From  every  vice  and  error,  by  degrees ; 
The  noble  soul  above  revenge  we  find, 
'Tis  the  poor  pleasure  of  a  puny  mind  : 
If  proof  you  need,  contemplate  female  spite ; 
In  vengeance  none  like  women  take  delight. 

But,  canst  thou  deem  from  all  chastisement  freed 
Men  who  beneath  the  scourge  of  conscience  bleed? 
By  scorpions  stung,  their  teeth  in  fury  gnash, 
And  writhe  with  anguish  at  the  secret  lash  ? 
Oh !  trust  me,  friend,  the  judge  in  hell  below 
Cannot  on  crimes  inflict  so  deep  a  woe 
As  that  poor  mortal  feels,  by  guilt  oppressed. 
Doomed  day  and  night  to  bear  the  witness  in  his  breast. 

A  Spartan  once  to  Delphi's  fane  repaired. 
And  to  consult  the  god's  opinion  dared. 
Whether  he  might  retain  entrusted  gold. 


THE    THIUTEF.NTII    SA/IKR    OF    JfJVENAL.  49 

And  wilh  a  solemn  onlli  the  fr.iiiJ  uplioKl  ! 
Tho  priestess  answereil,  wilh  imligimnt  air, 
The  doubt  aloue  its  piiiiishmeut  should  bear  ; 
Th'  insulting  doubt  that  in  the  question  lies, 
If  great  Apollo  would  a  crime  advise. 
The  frightened  Spartan,  by  compulsion  just, 
From  fear,  not  virtue,  straight  restored  the  trust ; 
Yet  soon  he  found,  that,  from  the  sacred  fane, 
His  doom  deserved  was  not  denounced  in  vain : 
Himself,  his  offspring,  all  his  hapless  race. 
Swept  from  the  earth,  left  not  behind  a  trace. 
By  such  hard  pciinlties  must  men  atone 
The  fault  of  meditated  wrong  alone ; 
He  guilt  incurs  who  merely  guilt  intends — 
How  much  more  he,  then,  who  in  act  offends  r 

Perpetual  anguish  preys  upon  his  breast, 
Nor,  even  at  his  meals,  allows  him  rest. 

His  sickened  palate,  nauseating,  heaves 

At  every  morsel  that  his  mouth  receives ; 

Loathes  the  fine  fragrance  of  long-hoarded  vines, 

The  cordial  drop,  distilled  from  Alban  wines ; 

While  his  knit  brows,  if  choicer  still  you  bring, 

Of  sour  Falernian  seem  to   mark  the  sting. 

At  night,  if  when  his  limbs  have  long  been  spread. 

In  restless  tossings,  over  all  his  bed. 

Short  slumber  comes  at  last  to  close  his  eyes, 

In  dreams  he  sees  the  hallowed  temple  rise 

Before  him  violated  altars  stand, 

Afjd  gods  tjlVcMded.  witli  ujilified   h.irid  ; 


50  THE   THIRTEENTH   SATIRE    OF   JUVENAL. 

But,  what  his  breast  with  torture  chiefly  rends 
Larger  than  life  thy  sacred^form  ascends, 
With  deadly  fears  his  dastard  soul  to  press, 
And  force  his  lips  their  falsehood  to  confess. 
Heaven^s  earliest  murmurs  cause  his  heart  to  fail, 
And  every  flash  of  lightning  turns  him  pale; 
By  storms  or  chance  impelled,  no  bolts  can  fly, 
He  thinks,  but  vengeance  hurls  it  from  on  high. 
If,  yet  unhurt,  he  sees  one  storm  pass  o'er. 
He  only  trembles  at  the  next  the  more. 
If  in  his  side  he  feels  the  slightest  pains. 
Or  sleepless  fever  riot  in  his  veins, 
The  weapons  of  a  god  he  fancies  these. 
Sent  to  afl3ict  his  body  with  disease. 
For  health  he  dares  not  ask  the  powers  divine, 
With  votive  ofierings  at  the  sacred  shrine ; 
For  oh  I  what  mercy  can  the  guilty  mind, 
In  illness,  hope  from  angry  heaven  to  find  1 
What  bleeding  victims  for  his  crimes  atone, 
Whose  life  were  not  more  precious  than  his  own  T 

With  what  a  changeful,  sickliness  of  soul, 
The  varying  tempers  of  the  wicked  roll ! 
Crimes  to  commit  how  bold  they  are  and  strong  ! 
But  soon  they  learn  to  know  the  right  from  wrong. 
Yet  stubborn  nature  all  amendment  spurns, 
And  to  her  evil  practices  returns. 
For  what  offender  ever  yet  was  found 
Who  to  his  vices  could  prescribe  a  bound  ? 
The  blush  of  shame,  when  once  expelled  the  face, 


THE    THIRTEENTH    SATIRE    OF   JUVENAL. 


51 


Who  erer  saw  it  reassume  its  place  7 

In  all  thy  life's  experience,  hast  thou  known 

A  man  contented  with  one  crime  alone  *? 

The  wretch  who  wronged  you,  in  the  toils  soon  caught, 
Shall  to  some  prison's  gloomy  cell  be  brought ; 
Or  to  some  dreary  rock  of  banishment, 
For  famous  exiles  noted,  shall  bo  sent ; 
Then  shall  the  sufferings  of  your  perjured  foo 
Sweet  consolation  on  your  soul  bestow ; 
And  then,  at  last,  shall  your  rejoicing  mind 
Confess  the  gods  are  neither  deaf  nor  blind. 


52       VERSION   OF   THE   HUNDRED   SEVENTH   PSALM. 


VERSION  OF  THE  ONE  HUNDRED  SEVENTH 
PSALM. 

O  THAT  the  race  of  men  would  raise 

Their  voices  to  their  heavenly  King, 
And  with  the  sacrifice  of  praise 

The  glories  of  Jehovah  sing ! — 
Ye  navigators  of  the  sea, 

Your  course  on  ocean's  tides  who  keep, 
And  there  Jehovah's  wonders  see, 

His  wonders  in  the  briny  deep ! 

He  speaks ;  conflicting  whirlwinds  fly ; 

The  waves  in  swelling  torrents  flow; 
They  mount,  aspire  to  heaven  on  high  ; 

They  sink,  as  if  to  hell  below : 
Their  souls  with  terror  melt  away ; 

They  stagger  as  if  drunk  with  wine 
Their  skill  is  vain, — to  thee  they  pray ; 

O,  save  them,  Energy  divine  ! 

He  stays  the  storm;  the  waves  subside; 

Their  hearts  with  rapture  are  inspired ; 
Soft  breezes  waft  them  o'er  the  tide, 

In  gladness,  to  their  port  desired : 


VEKSroN    OF    THE    HUNDRED    SEVENTH    PSALM. 


63 


O  ihal  mankiml  the  song  would  raise, 
Jehovah's  goodness  to  proclaim ! 

Assembled  nations  shout  his  praise, 
Assembled  elders  bless  his  name ! 
5* 


3S'^M 


51  THE   HOUR-GLASS. 


THE  HOUR-GLASS. 

Alas  I  how  swift  the  moments  fly  ! 
,  How  flash  the  years  along  ! 
Scarce  here,  yet  gone  already  by, 

The  burden  of  a  song. 
See  childhood,  youth,  and  manhood  pass, 

And  age,  with  furrowed  brow ; 
rime  was — Time  shall  be — drain  the  gli 

But  where  in  Time  is  now  7 

Time  is  the  measure  but  of  change ; 

No  present  hour  is  found  ; 
The  past,  the  fiiture,  fill  the  range 

Of  Time's  unceasing  round. 
Where,  then,  is  now  ?     In  realms  above, 

With  God's  atoning  Lamb 
In  regions  of  eternal  love, 

Where  sits  enthroned  I  AM. 

Then,  pilgrim,  let  thy  joys  and  tears 

On  Time  no  longer  lean ; 
But  henceforth  all  thy  hopes  and  fears 

From  earth's  affections  wean : 


J 


THE    HOUR-GLASS. 


55 


To  God  let  votive  acceiita  rise; 

AViih  truth,  witn  virtue,  live  ; 
So  all  the  bliss  tluit  Time  denies 

Eternity  shall  give. 


56  SABBATH    MORNING. 


SABBATH  MORNING. 

55 
Hark  !  'tis  the  holy  temple's  bell ; 

The  voice  that  summons  me  to  prayer : 
My  heart,  each  roving  fancy  quell ; 

Come,  to  the  house  of  God  repair. 

44 
There,  w^hile,  in  orison  sublime, 

Souls  to  the  throne  of  God  ascend, 
Let  no  unhallowed  child  of  time 

Profane  pollutions  with  them  blend. 

44 
How  for  thy  wants  canst  thou  implore, 

Crave  for  thy  frailties  pardon  free, 
Of  praise  the  votive  tribute  pour, 

Or  bend,  in  thanks,  the  grateful  knee,— 

66 
If,  from  the  awfnl  King  of  kings. 

Each  bauble  lures  thy  soul  astray ; 
If  to  this  dust  of  earth  it  clings. 

And,  fickle,  flies  from  heaven  away ; 


SABBATH    MORNING. 


57 


Pure  as  iho  blessed  seraph's  vow, 
O,  let  the  sacred  concert  rise ; 

Intent  with  humble  rapture  bow, 
Adore  the  ruler  of  the  skies. 


Bid  earth-bora  atoms  all  depart ; 

Within  thyself  collected,  fall ; 
And  give  one  day,  rebellious  heart, 

Unsullied  to  the  Lord  of  all 


68  THE  DEATH   OF    CHILDREN. 


THE  DEATH  OF  CHILDREN. 

Sure,  to  the  mansions  of  the  blest 
When  infant  innocence  ascends, 

Some  angel  brighter  than  the  rest 
The  spotless  spirit's  flight  attends. 

On  wings  of  ecstasy  they  rise, 

Beyond  where  worlds  material  roll 

Till  some  fair  sister  of  the  skies 
Receives  the  unpolluted  soul 

There,  at  the  Almighty  Father's  hand, 
Nearest  the  throne  of  living  light, 

The  choirs  of  infant  seraphs  stand. 
And  dazzling  shine,  where  all  are  bright. 

That  inextinguishable  beam. 

With  dust  united  at  our  birth. 
Sheds  a  more  dim,  discolored  gleam, 

The  more  it  lingers  upon  earth. 


4 


Ji^ 


THE    DEATH    OF    CHILDREN. 


50 


CK)st'd  in  this  dark  abode  of  clay, 
Tlio  stream  of  glory  faintly  burns, 

Nor  unobscured  the  lucid  ray 
To  its  own  native  fount  returns. 

But  when  the  Lord  of  mortal  breath 
Decrees  his  bounty  to  resume. 

And  points  the  silent  shaft  of  death, 
Which  speeds  an  infant  to  the  tomb — 

No  passion  fierce,  no  low  desire. 

Has  quenched  the  radiance  of  the  flame ; 
Back  to  its  God  tho  living  fire 

Beturus  unsullied,  as  it  camo 


f>0  WRITTEN    IN    SICKNESS. 


WRITTEN  IN  SICKNESS. 

Lord  ot  all  worlds,  let  thanks  and  praise 

To  thee  forever  fill  my  soul ; 
With  blessings  thou  hast  crowned  my  day*- 

My  heart,  my  head,  my  hand  control : 
O,  let  no  vain  presumption  rise, 

No  impious  murmur  in  my  heart, 
To  crave  the  boon  thy  will  denies, 

Or  shrink  from  ill  thy  hands  impart. 

Thy  child  am  I,  and  not  an  hour, 

Revolving  in  the  orbs  above, 
But  brings  some  token  of  thy  power, 

But  brings  some  token  of  thy  love  : 
And  shall  this  bosom  dare  repine, 

In  darkness  dare  deny  the  dawn, 
Or  spurn  the  treasures  of  the  mine, 

Because  one  diamond  is  withdrawn  ? 

The  fool  denies,  the  fool  alone, 

Thy  being.  Lord,  and  boundless  might, 

Denies  the  firmament,  thy  throne, 
Denies  the  sun's  meridian  light ; 


WRITTEN    IN    SICKNESS.  61 

Denies  the  fiisliiou  of  his  frame, 

The  voice  ho  hears,  the  breath  he  draws ; 

O  idiot  atheist !   to  proclaim 

Effects  unnumbered  without  cause. 

Matter  and  mind,  mysterious  one, 

Are  man's  for  threescore  years  and  ten ; 
Where,  ere  the  thread  of  life  was  spun  ? 

Where,  w^hen  reduced  to  dust  again  ? 
All-seeing  God,  the  doubt  suppress; 

The  doubt  thou  only  canst  relieve ; 
My  soul  thy  Saviour-Son  shall  bless, 

Fly  \D  thy  gospel,  and  believe. 
6 


62      HYMN  FOR  THE  TWENTY-SECOND  OF  DECEMBER. 


HYMN    FOR    THE    TWENTY-SECOND    OF 
DECEMBER. 

When  o'er  the  billow-heaving  deep, 

The  fathers  of  our  race, 
The  precepts  of  their  God  to  keep, 

Sought  here  their  resting-place — 

That  gracious  God  their  path  prepared, 

Preserved  from  every  harm. 
And  still  for  their  protection  bared 

His  everlasting  arm. 

His  breath,  inspiring  every  gale, 

Impels  them  o'er  the  main ; 
His  guardian  angels  spread  the  sail. 

And  tempests  hov^rl  in  vain. 

For  them  old  ocean's  rocks  are  smoothed ; 

December's  face  grows  mild ; 
To  vernal  airs  her  blasts  are  soothed, 

And  all  their  rage  beguiled. 


I 


HYMN  FOR  THE  TWENTY-SECOND  OF  DECEMBER.      ii'S 

When  Famine  rolls  her  haggard  eyes, 

His  ever-bounteous  hand 
Abundance  from  the  sea  supplies, 

And  treasures  from  the  sand. 

Nor  yet  his  tender  mercies  cease ; 

His  overruling  plan 
Inclines  to  gentleness  and  peace 

The  heart  of  savage  man. 

And  can  our  stony  bosoms  be 

To  all  these  wonders  blind  7 
Nor  swell  with  thankfulness  to  thee, 

O  Parent  of  mankind  ? 

All-pracious  God,  inflame  our  zeal ; 

Dispense  one  blessing  more ; 
Grant  us  thy  boundless  love  to  feol, 

Thy  goodness  to  adore. 


JOA. 


64  O   GOD,   WITH   GOODNESS   ALL    THY    OWN. 


O  GOD,  WITH  GOODNESS  ALL  THY  OWN. 

O  God,  with  goodness  all  thy  own, 

In  mercy  cause  thy  face  to  shine ; 
So  shall  thy  ways  on  earth  be  known, 

Thy  saving  health  and  power  divine: 
O,  let  the  gladdening  nations  sing. 

And  praise  thy  name  with  hallowed  mirth, 
For  thou  of  righteousness  art  King, 

And  rulest  all  the  subject  earth. 

O,  let  the  people  praise  the  Lord ; 

The  people  all  thy  praise  express ; 
And  earth  her  plenty  shall  afford. 

And  God,  yea,  our  own  God,  shall  bless ; 
Our  God  his  blessing  shall  bestow ; 

His  power,  his  goodness,  shall  appear ; 
And  all  the  ends  of  earth  shall  know 

And  worship  him  with  holy  fear. 


bJNG    TO    JEHOVAH    A    MEW    SONG.  05 


SING  TO  JEHOVAH  A  NEW  SONG. 

Sing  to  Jehovah  a  new  song. 

For  deeds  of  wouder  he  hath  done ; 
His  arm  in  holiness  is  strong ; 

His  hand  the  victory  hath  won : 
The  Lord  salvation  hath  made  known ; 

nis  goodness  o'er  the  world  extends; 
His  truth  to  Israel's  house  is  shown; 

His  power  to  earth's  remotest  ends. 

Shout  to  Jehovah,  all  the  earth, 

Break  forth  in  joy,  exult,  and  sing; 
Let  voice,  let  clarion  speak  your  mirth. 

Trumpet  and  harp  proclaim  your  King : 
Roar,  ocean,  to  thy  lowest  deep; 

Shout,  earth,  and  all  therein  that  dwell ; 
Floods,  clap  your  hands  as  on  you  sweep : 

Mountains,  the  choral  anthem  swell. 

Let  heaven,  and  earth,  and  sea,  combine, 

Jehovah's  holy  name  to  bless ; 
Creation  owns  his  power  divine, 

The  universe  his  righteouauess  ; 


66 


SING    TO    JEHOVAH    A    NEW    SONG. 


He  comes  in  judgment  to  display- 
Resistless  right  and  boundless  grace 

The  world  with  equity  to  sway, 
And  blessings  shed  o'er  all  our  race. 


O,   ALL    YE    FEOPLE    CLAP    YOUR    HANDS.  67 


O,  ALL  YE  PEOPLE,  CLAP  YOUR  HANDS. 

O,  ALL  ye  people,  clap  your  hands, 

Shout  unto  God  with  holy  mirth ; 
In  fearful  majesty  he  stands ; 

He  is  the  Monarch  of  the  earth : 
Before  us  nations  he  subdues, 

And  prostrates  kingdoms  at  our  feet ; 
For  us  a  portion  he  shall  choose 

In  favored  Jacob's  chosen  seat. 

God,  with  a  shout,  to  heaven  ascends; 

Sing  praises  to  our  God  and  King : 
Hark  !  the  loud  tempest  ether  rends  ; 

Sing  praises,  praises,  praises  sing. 
His  power  Creation's  orb  sustains ; 

Sing  hymns  of  praise  to  him  alone : 
Jehovah  o'er  the  nations  reigns ; 

He  sits  upon  his  holy  throne. 

See  gathering  princes,  men  of  might. 
In  crowds  from  earth's  remotest  shore, 

With  us  in  worship  all  unite, 

And  Abraham's  God  with  ui*  adore  : 


68 


O,    ALL   YE    PEOPLE,    CLAP    YOUR    HANDS. 


The  shields  of  earth  are  all  his  own, 
And,  far  o'er  human  ken  sublime, 

Eternal  pillars  prop  his  throne, 

Beyond  the  bounds  of  space  and  time. 


TURN  TO  THE  STARS  OF  HEAVEN  THINE  EYES.        69 


TURN  TO  THE  STARS  OF  HEAVEN  THINE 
EYES. 

Turn  to  the  stars  of  heaven  thiue  eyes, 

And  God  shall  meet  thee  there  ; 
Exalt  thy  vision  to  the  skies, 

His  glory  they  declare  ; 
Day  speaks  to  day,  night  teaches  night. 

The  wonders  of  their  frame, 
And  all  in  harmony  unite 

Their  Maker  to  proclain. 

Earth  has  no  language,  man  no  speech, 

But  gives  their  voice  a  tongue ; 
Their  words  the  world's  foundations  reach; 

Their  hymn  in  heaven  is  sung  ; 
Pavilioned  there  in  glory  bright. 

As  from  a  blooming  bride. 
The  sun  comes  forth  in  floods  of  light, 

With  all  a  bridegroom's  pride. 

Glad,  like  a  giant  for  the  race. 

His  orient  flame  ascends. 
Soars  through  the  boundless  realms  of  spare, 

AjuI  in  the  wi'st  (h'scrnds; 


70       TURN  TO  TflE  STARS  OF  HEAVEN  THINE  EYES. 

His  heat  the  vital  lamp  bestows, 

The  firmament  pervades, 
In  ocean^s  darkest  caverns  glows, 

And  earth's  profoundest  shades. 


O  LORD  MY  GOn  !  HOW  GRKAT  AKT  THOU  !    71 


O  LORD  MY  GOD!  HOW  GREAT  ART  TIIOU ! 

/       55 

O  Lord  my  God  !  how  great  art  thou  ! 

With  honor  and  with  glory  crowned  ; 
Light's  dazzling  splendors  veil  thy  brow, 

And  gird  the  universe  around. 

66 
Spirits  and  angels  thou  hast  made  ; 

Thy  mluisicrs  a  naming  fire  ; 
By  thee  were  earth's  foundations  laid  ; 

At  thy  rebuke  the  floods  retire. 

44 
Thine  are  the  fountains  of  the  deep ; 

By  thee  their  waters  swell  or  fail ; 
Up  to  the  mountain's  summit  creep, 

Or  shrink  beneath  the  lowly  vale. 

44 

Thy  fingers  mark  their  utmost  bound; 

That  bound  the  waters  may  not  pass; 
Their  moisture  swells  the  tt^eming  ground, 

And  paintij  ihc  valleys  o'er  with  grass. 


72         O    LORD    MY    god!    HOW    GPtEAT    ART    THOU  ! 

The  waving  harvest,  Lord,  is  thitie ; 

The  vineyard,  and  the  olive's  juice  ; 
Corn,  v^^ine,  and  oil,  by  thee  combine, 

Life,  gladness,  beauty,  to  produce. 

The  moon  for  seasons  thou  hast  made, 
The  sun  for  change  of  day  and  night ; 

Of  darkness  thine  the  deepest  shade, 
And  thine  the  day's  meridian  light. 

O  Lord,  thy  works  are  all  divine ; 

In  wisdom  hast  thou  made  them  all ; 
Earth's  teeming  multitudes  are  thine  ; 

Thine — peopled  ocean's  great  and  small. 

All  these  on  thee  for  life  depend  ; 

Thy  spirit  speaks,  and  they  are  born ; 
They  gather  what  thy  bounties  send  ; 

Thy  hand  of  plenty  fills  the  horn. 

Thy  face  is  hidden — they  turn  pale, 
With  terror  quake,  v^^ith  anguish  burn  ; 

Their  breath  thou  givest  to  the  gale  ; 
They  die,  and  to  their  dust  return. 

And  thou,  my  soul,  with  pure  delight. 
Thy  voice  to  bless  thy  Maker  raise ; 

His  praise  let  morning  sing  to  night, 
And  night  to  morn  repeat  his  praise. 


O    LORD,    THY    AI.F. MSCKRNING    EYES.  73 


I 


O  LORD,  TIIY  ALL-DISCERNINQ  EYES. 

O  Lord,  thy  all-<liscerniiig  eyes 

My  inmost  purpose  see  ; 
My  deeds,  my  words,  my  thouglitfl,  nriso 

Alike  disclosed  to  thee  : 
My  sitting  down,  my  rising  up, 

Broad  noon,  and  deepest  night, 
My  path,  my  pillow,  and  my  cup, 

Are  open  to  thy  sight. 

Before,  beliiud,  I  meet  thine  eye, 

And  feel  thy  heavy  hand: 
Such  knowledge  is  for  me  too  high, 

To  reach  or  understand  : 
What  of  thy  wonders  can  I  know  ? 

What  of  thy  purpose  see  7 
Where  from  thy  spirit  shall  I  go  7 

Where  from  thy  presence  flee  ? 

If  I  ascend  to  heaven  on  high, 

Or  make  my  bed  in  hell  ; 
Or  take  the  morning's  wings,  and  lly 

O'er  ocean's  hoiiFnU  to  d-.vt'I!  ; 


74  O    LORD,    THY    ALL- DISCERNING    EYES. 

Or  seek,  from  thee,  a  hiding-place 
Amid  the  gloom  of  night — 

Alike  to  thee  are  time  and  space, 
The  darkness  and  the  light. 


i 


MY    SOTTL,    BEFORE    TIFY    MAKER    KNEEL.  75 


MY  SOUL,  BEFORE  TIIY  MAKER  KNEEL. 

My  soul,  before  thy  Maker  kneel ; 

His  name  let  all  vvitliin  me  bless; 
'Tis  he  the  wounded  heart  shall  heal  ; 

'Tis  he  shall  comfort  in  distress : 
My  soul,  his  name  forget  not  thou, 

Who  e'en  in  tender  mercy  frowns, 
For^ves  thy  oft-forgotten  vow, 

And  still  thy  lips  with  blessing  crowns. 

The  Lord  of  mercy  and  of  grace. 

To  kindness  swift,  to  anger  slow, 
Not  always  wears  a  chiding  face, 

Not  always  bends  the  avenging  bow : 
Above  the  earth  as  heaven  is  high. 

Above  our  crimes  his  mercies  rise : 
We  sin — but  pardon  still  is  nigh  ; 

Fools — he  rewards  us  as  the  wise. 

Far  distant  as  the  adverse  p)le8, 

Our  sins  he  scatters  to  the  wild, 
IMlies  the  frailties  of  our  souls — 

A  father'rt  pity  for  liis  child  : 


76 


MY    SOUL,    BEFORE    THY    MAKER    KNEEL. 


He  knows  our  frame  ;— our  days  are  grass ; 

The  fading  floweret's  bloom  is  o'er  ; 
Let  but  a  breeze  of  morning  pass, 

The  place  shall  never  know  it  more. 

But  far  beyond  the  bounds  of  time 

The  mercies  of  the  Lord  are  sure ; 
Throughout  eternity  sublime 

His  truth  and  justice  shall  endure  : 
His  grace  of  those  who  keep  his  law 

Shall  on  the  children's  children  fall ; 
His  throne  high  heaven  beholds  with  aw© ; 

His  kingdom  ruleth  over  all. 


I 


FOR    TIIKE    IN    ZION    WAITETII    PRAISE.  77 


* 


FOR  TIIEE  IN  ZION  WAITETH  PRAISE. 

For  thee  iii  Zioii  vvaiteth  praise, 

O  God,  O  thou  that  hearest  prayer ; 
To  thee  the  suppliant  voice  we  raise ; 

To  tliee  shall  all  mankind  repair. 
On  ihee  the  ends  of  earth  rely  ; 

In  thee  the  distant  seas  confide  ; 
By  thee  the  mountains  brave  the  sky, 

And  girded  by  thy  strength  abide. 

Thou  speakest  to  the  tempest  peace ; 

The  roaring  wave  obeys  thy  nod  ; 
The  tumults  of  the  people  cease  ; 

Earth  trembles  at  the  voice  of  God  : 
The  morning's  dawn,  the  evening's  shade, 

Alike  thy  power  with  gladness  see ; 
The  fields  from  thee  the  rains  receive. 

And  swell  with  fruitfulness  by  thee. 

Thy  river,  gracious  God,  o'erflows ; 

Its  streams  for  human  wants  provide  ; 
At  thy  command  the  harvest  grows, 

by  tliy  refreshing  showers  8Up[)lied  : 
7* 


78  FOR   THEE    IN    ZION  WAITETH    PRAISE, 

Thy  bounty  clothes  the  plains  with  grass ; 

Thy  path  drops  fatness  as  it  goes ; 
And  wheresoever  thy  footsteps  pass, 

The  desert  blossoms  like  the  rose. 

Thy  goodness  crowns  the  circling  year ; 

The  wilderness  repeats  thy  voice  ; 
•  '    The  mountains  clad  with  flocks  appear ; 

The  hills  on  every  side  rejoice  ; 
And  harvests  from  the  valleys  spring ; 

The  reaper's  sickle  they  employ  ; 
And,  hark  !  how  hill  and  valley  ring 

With  universal  shouts  of  joy  ! 


.MV    iSIIEPIIEriD    IS    THE    LORD    ON    HIGH.  79 


iMY  SHEPHERD  IS  THE  LORD  ON   HIGH. 

M<j  Shepherd  is  the  Lord  on  high  ; 

His  hand  supplies  me  still  ; 
lu  pastures  greeii  he  makes  me  lie, 

Beside  the  rippling  rill : 
He  cheers  my  soul,  relieves  my  woes, 

His  glory  to  display  ; 
The  paths  of  righteousness  he  shows, 

And  leads  me  in  his  way. 

Though  walking  through  death's  dismal  shade. 

No  evil  will  I  fear  ; 
Thy  rod,  thy  staft'  shall  lend  me  aid, 

For  thou  art  ever  near; 
For  me  a  table  thou  dost  spread 

In  presence  of  my  foes ; 
\Vilh  oil  thou  dost  anoint  my  head  ; 

By  thee  my  cup  o'erflows. 

Thy  goodness  and  thy  mercy  sure 

Shall  bless  me  all  my  days  ; 
And  I,  with  lips  sincere  and  pure, 

Will  celebrate  thy  praise. 


80 


MY   SHEPHERD    IS    THE    LORD    ON    HIGH. 


Yes,  in  the  temple  of  the  Lord 
Forever  I  will  dwell ; 

To  after  time  thy  name  record, 
And  of  thy  glory  tell. 


SEND  FORTH,  0  GOD,  THY  TRUTH  AND  LIGHT.         81 


I 


SEND  FORTH,  O  GOD,  THY  TRUTH  AND 
LIGHT. 

Send  forth,  O  God,  thy  tnilli  and  light, 

And  let  them  lead  me  still. 
Undaunted,  in  the  paths  of  right, 

Up  to  thy  holy  hill : 
Then  to  thy  altar  will  I  spring, 

And  in  my  God  rejoice 
And  praise  shall  tune  the  trembling  string, 

And  gratitude  my  voice. 

O  why,  my  soul,  art  thou  cast  downl 

Within  me  why  distressed  7 
Thy  hopes  the  God  of  grace  shall  crown ; 

He  yet  shall  make  thee  blessed ; 
To  him,  my  never-failing  Friend, 

I  bow,  and  kiss  the  rod ; 
To  him  shall  thanks  and  praise  ascend, 

My  Saviour  and  my  God. 


82  O   JUDGE   ME,    LORD,    FOR   THOU   ART   JUST. 


O  JUDGE   ME,  LORD,  FOR  THOU  ART  JUST. 

O  JUDGE  me,  Lord,  for  thou  art  just ; 

Thy  statutes  are  my  pride  ; 
In  thee  alone  I  put  my  trust ; 

I  therefore  shall  not  slide : 

0  prove  me,  try  my  reins  and  heart ; 
Thy  mercies,  Lord,  I  know ; 

1  never  took  the  scomer^s  part. 
Nor  w^ith  the  vain  will  go. 

Of  sinners  I  detest  the  bands. 

Nor  with  them  will  offend  ; 
In  innocence  will  wash  my  hands. 

And  at  thine  altar  bend ; 
There,  with  thanksgiving's  grateful  voice, 

Thy  wondrous  works  will  tell ; 
I  love  the  mansions  of  thy  choice, 

And  where  thine  honors  dwell. 


i 


U    HEAL    ME,    LORD,    FOR    I    AM    WEAK.  83 


I 


O  HEAL  ME,  LORD,  FOR  I  AM  WEAK. 

O  HEAL  rae,  Lord,  fur  I  am  weak  ; 

My  bones  are  vexed  with  pain  ; 
Let  not  thy  hot  displeasure  speak  ; 

Thy  burning  wrath  restrain. 
My  soul  what  sore  vexations  try  ! 

How  long  shall  they  assail  ? 
Return,  and  listen  to  my  cry ; 

Let  mercy,  Lord,  prevail. 

Of  thee  no  memory  remains 

In  death's  relentless  cave  ; 
To  thee  ascend  no  grateful  strains 

Of  glory  from  the  grave : 
With  ceaseless  pain  I  groan  and  weep, 

So  cruel  are  my  foes ; 
My  very  couch  in  tears  I  steep. 

My  bed  with  grief  o'erflows. 

Depart  from  me,  all  who  rejoice 

Iniquity  to  share ; 
The  Lord  hath  heard  my  moaning  voice, 

And  listened  to  my  prayer ; 


84 


O    HEAL    ME,    LORD,    FOR    I    AM    WEA^. 


What  though  my  foes  despise  the  Lord, 

And  my  destruction  plot  ? 
Vexation  shall  be  their  reward, 

And  sudden  shame  their  lot. 


BLfiST    IS    THE    MORTAL    WllOiiE    DELIGHT.  85 


I 


BLEST   IS   THE  iMORTAL   WHOSE  DELIGHT 

Blest  is  the  mortal  whose  delight 

Is  in  the  precepts  of  the  Lord, 
Who  meditates  them  day  and  night, 

And  hears  the  holy  gospel's  word  ; 
From  the  blasphemer's  counsel  tarns, 

Disdains  his  slanders  to  repeat, 
The  luring  path  of  sinners  spurns, 

Nor  sits  upon  the  scomer's  seat. 

For  him  prosperity  shall  flow  ; 

Whate'er  he  undertakes  shall  thrive  ; 
But  with  the  wicked  'tis  not  so  ; 

Like  chaff  before  the  wind  they  drive : 
He,  like  the  fruit-tree's  planted  stem. 

Beside  the  river's  brink  shall  bear, 
While  the  green  leaf  shall  fade  for  them, 

Nor  wealth  nor  honors  shall  they  share. 

In  vain  to  mt  rtal  eyes  concealed 

The  paths  of  righteousness  and  crime 

To  Heaven's  all-seeing  eye  revealed, 
Man  shall  discern  them,  too,  in  time 

8 


86 


BLEST    IS    THE    MORTAL    WHOSE    DELIGHT. 


The  blessing  of  the  Lord  shall  fall 
Upon  the  d  wellhig  of  the  just ; 

While,  by  the  doom  of  sinners,  all 
Their  hopes  shall  crumble  into  dust. 


WHY    SHOULD    I    FEAR    IN    EVIL    DAYS.  87 


WHY  SHOULD  I  FEAR  IN  EVIL  DAYS. 

Why  should  I  fear  in  evil  days, 

With  snares  encompassed  all  around  1 
What  trust  can  transient  treasures  raise 

Fur  them  in  riches  who  abound  ? 
His  brother  who  from  death  can  save  ? 

What  wealth  can  ransom  him  from  Gtxl  ? 
What  mine  of  gold  defraud  the  grave  1 

What  hoards  but  vanish  at  his  nod  ? 

To  live  forever  is  their  dream  ; 

Their  houses  by  their  name  they  call ; 
While,  borne  by  time's  relentless  stream, 

Around  them  wise  and  foolish  fall ; 
Their  riches  others  must  divide  ; 

They  plant,  but  others  reap  the  fruit ; 
In  honor  man  cannot  abide. 

To  death  devoted,  like  the  brute. 

This  is  their  folly,  this  their  way  ; 

And  yet  in  this  their  sons  deliglit ; 
Like  sheep,  of  death  the  destined  prey, 

The  future  scorn  of  the  upright ; 


88       WHY  SHOULD  I  FEAR  IN  EVIL  DAYS. 

The  grave  their  beauty  shall  consume, 
Their  dwellings  never  see  them  more ; 

But  God  shall  raise  me  from  the  tomb, 
And  life  for  endless  time  restore. 

What  though  thy  foe  in  wealth  increase, 

And  fame  and  glory  crown  his  head  ? 
Fear  not,  for  all  at  death  shall  cease, 

Nor  fame,  nor  glory,  crown  the  dead : 
While  prospering  all  around  thee  smiled, 

Yet  to  the  grave  shalt  thou  descend ; 
The  senseless  pride  of  fortune's  child 

Shall  share  the  brute  creation's  end. 


C031E,    LET    US    iJiNe.    UNTO    THE    LOUD.  89 


COME,  LET  US  SING  UNTO  THE  LORD. 

Come,  let  us  sing  unto  the  Lord, 

The  Ruck  of  our  salvation  sing. 
With  joyful  noise  his  pmise  record, 

And  thanks  before  his  presence  bring: 
Great  is  Jehovah,  great  our  God, 

Exalted  above  all  his  throne ; 
The  depths  of  earth  obey  his  nod; 

The  mountain  tops  are  all  his  own. 

He  made  the  sea  ;  the  land  he  made  ; 

And  both  his  matchless  power  reveal : 
O,  be  the  Lord  our  God  obeyed  ; 

O,  come,  before  him  let  us  kneel : 
He  is  our  Maker — we  his  flock, 

His  peo[»le,  by  his  pastures  fed : 
Let  not  your  heaits  be  turned  to  rock  ; 

O,  hear  his  warning  voice  with  dread. 
8» 


©To 


90  SING    TO    THE    LORD    A    SONG    OF    PRAISE. 


SING  TO  THE  LORD  A  SONG  OF  PRAISE 

SixG  to  the  Lord  a  song  of  praise ; 

Assemble,  ye  who  love  his  name  ; 
Let  congregated  millions  raise 

Triumphant  glory's  loud  acclaim : 
From  earth's  remotest  regions  come  ; 

Come,  greet  your  Maker,  and  your  King  ; 
With  harp,  with  timbrel,  and  with  drum. 

His  praise  let  hill  and  valley  sing. 

Your  praise  the  Lord  will  not  disdain  ; 

The  humble  soul  is  his  delight ; 
Saints,  on  your  couches  swell  the  strain, 

Break  the  dull  stillness  of  the  night ; 
Rejoice  in  glory  ;  bid  the  storm, 

Bid  thunder's  voice  his  praise  expand  ; 
And,  while  your  lips  the  chorus  form, 

Grasp  for  the  fight  his  vengeful  brand. 

Go  forth  in  arms  ;  Jehovah  reigns ; 

Their  graves  let  foul  oppressors  find  ; 
Bind  all  their  sceptred  kings  in  chains ; 

Their  peers  w^ith  iron  fetters  bind. 


SING    TO    THK    LORD    A    SONG    OF    PKAISK. 


91 


Tlien  to  tho  Lord  »\m\\  praise  ascend ; 

Tlieii  all  iiiankiiKl,  with  une  accord, 
And  freedom's  voice,  till  time  shall  end, 

lu  pealing  anthems,  praise  the  Lord. 


li^^.^ 


92  LORD    OF    ALL    WORLDS. 


LORD  OF  ALL  WORLDS. 

Lord  of  all  worlds,  let  thanks  and  praise 

To  thee  forever  fill  my  soul ; 
With  blessings  thou  hast  crowned  my  days 

My  heart,  my  head,  my  hand  control : 
O,  let  no  vain  presumptions  rise, 

No  impious  murmur  in  my  heart, 
To  crave  the  boon  thy  will  denies. 

Or  shrink  from  ill  thy  hands  impart. 

Thy  child  am  I,  and  not  an  hour. 

Revolving  in  the  orbs  above, 
But  brings  some  token  of  thy  power, 

But  brings  some  token  of  thy  love  ; 
And  shall  this  bosom  dare  repine. 

In  darkness  dare  deny  the  dawn. 
Or  spurn  the  treasures  of  the  mine, 

Because  one  diamond  is  withdrawn  ? 

The  fool  denies,  the  fool  alone. 

Thy  being,  Lord,  and  boundless  might ; 
Denies  the  firmament,  thy  throne. 

Denies  the  sun's  meridian  light ; 


LORD    OF    ALL    WORLDS. 


93 


Deiilt's  llie  fashion  oriii.s  frame, 

The  voice  he  liears,  iho  brealli  he  draws; 
O  idiot  uthiMst !  to  proclaim    ^ 

KtVeclii  uiimimbered  without  cause  ! 

Matter  and  mind,  mysterious  one, 

Are  man's  f<jr  threescore  years  and  ten  ; 
Where,  ere  the  thread  of  life  was  spun  7 

Where,  when  reduced  to  dust  again  ? 
All-seeing  God,  the  doubt  suppress  ; 

The  doubt  thou  only  canst  relieve  ; 
My  soul  thy  Saviour-Son  shall  bless, 

Fly  to  thy  gospel,  and  believe. 


m 


jrJSTICE. 


JUSTICE. 


I. 

Child  of  the  dust!  to  yonder  skiea 

Thy  vision  canst  thou  turn  ? 
And  trace  with  perishable  eyes, 

The  seats  where  seraphs  burn  ? 
There,  by  the  throne  of  God  on  high, 
An  angel  form  canst  thou  descry, 

Ineffably  sublime  ? 
Or  is  the  effulgence  of  the  Light, 
Intense,  insufferably  bright, 

For  beings  bom  of  Time  1 

11. 

That  angel  form,  in  light  enshrined, 

Beside  the  living  throne. 
Is  Justice,  still  to  heaven  confined— 

For  God  is  just  alone. 
This  Angel,  of  celestial  birlh» 
Her  faint  resemblance  here  on  earth 


JUSTICE.  ^  95 

Has  sent,  mnnkiiul  to  guide — 
,\et,  though  obscured  her  brightest  beams, 
Still  with  too  vivid  ray  she  gleams 

For  Mortals  to  abide. 

in. 

When  the  first  father  of  our  race 

Against  his  God  rebelled, 
Was  banished  from  his  Maker^s  face, 

From  Paradise  expelled ; 
For  guilt  unbounded  to  atone. 
What  bound  could  punishment  have  known, 

Had  Justice  dealt  the  blow  ? 
Sui-o.  to  infernal  regions  hurled, 
His  do'-m  lr\d  been  a  flaming  world 

Of  never  ending  woe ! 

IV. 

But  Mercy,  from  the  throne  of  God, 

Kxtended  forth  her  hand  ; 
Withheld  th*  exterminating  rod, 

And  quenched  the  flaming  brand  : 
His  blood  the  blest  Redeemer  gave, 
Tir  ap<jst;ite  victim's  blocxl  to  save. 

And  fill  redemption's  plan  : 
Angels  procluimed  in  choral  songs, 
"Jjistict*  to  God  al<Mn;  bfloiigs, 

Ami  Mfn  V  [Kinlmis  man." 


96  JUSTICE. 

V. 

When,  issuing  from  the  savage  wild, 

Man  forms  the  social  tie, 
Justice  severe,  and  Mercy  mild, 

To  bind  the  compact  vie ; 
Of  each  his  own,  the  parting  hedge 
Stem  Justice  takes  the  solemn  pledge; 

The  sacred  vow  enjoins. 
While  Mercy,  with  benignant  face, 
Bids  man  his  fellow-man  embrace, 

And  heart  with  heart  entwines. 

VI. 

To  both  united  is  the  trust 

Of  human  laws  consigned ; 
One  teaches  mortals  to  be  just ; 

The  other,  to  be  kind  ; 
Yet  shall  not  Justice  always  wear 
The  garb  of  punishment,  or  bear 

The  avenging  sword  to  smite : 
Nor  Mercy's  ever  gladdening  eye 
Permit  the  niflSan  to  defy 

Th'  unerring  rule  of  right. 

VII. 
To  Justice,  dearer  far  the  part 

To  tune  the  plausive  voice ; 
Of  Virtue  to  delight  the  heart, 

And  bid  the  good  rejoice. 


JUSTICE.  97 


To  yield  tlie  moetl  of  grateful  praif©-  - 
The  deathless  muiminent  to  raise, 

To  honor  Virtue  dead  ; 
Or  wreathe  the  chaj>let  of  renown, 
The  laurel  or  the  mural  crown, 

For  living  Virtue's  head. 

VIII. 
Here,  to  defend  his  native  land. 

His  sword  the  patriot  draws  ; 
Here  the  mock  hero  lifts  his  hand 

To  aid  a  tyrant's  cause. 
When,  meeting  on  the  field  of  blood 
They  pour  the  sanguinary  flood, 

Whose  triumph  waves  unfurled  1 
Alas !  let  Cheronea  tell ; 
Or  plains  where  godlike  Brutus  fell, 

Or  Caesar  won  the  world ! 

IX. 

In  arms,  when  hostile  nations  rise 
And  blood  the  strife  decides, 

Tis  brutal  force  awards  the  prize, 
Her  head  while  Justice  hides. 

But  short  is  force's  triumph  base: 

Justice  unveils  her  awful  face, 
And  hurls  him  from  the  steep; 

Strips  from  his  brow  the  wreath  of  fkme, 
9 


JUSTICE. 

And  after  ages  load  his  name 
With  curses  loud  and  deep. 

X. 

Behold  the  lettered  sage  devote 

The  labors  of  his  mind, 
His  country's  welfare  to  promote . 

And  benefit  mankind. 
Lo !   from  the  blackest  caves  of  hell, 
A  phalanx  fierce  of  monsters  fell, 

Combine  their  fearful  bands — 
His  fame  asperse,  his  toils  assail ; 
Till  Justice  holds  aloft  her  scale 

And  shields  him  from  their  hands. 

XI. 

Of  excellence,  in  every  clime, 

'Tis  thus  the  lot  is  cast; 
Passion  usm-ps  the  present  time, 

But  Justice  rules  the  past : 
Envy,  and  selfishness,  and  pride, 
The  passing  hours  of  man  divide 

With  unresisted  sway ; 
But  Justice  comes,  with  noiseless  tread, 
O'ertakes  the  filmy  spider's  thread 

And  sweeps  the  net  away. 

XII. 
Eternal  Spirit !  Lord  supreme 
Of  blessing  and  of  woe  ! 


JT'STICK. 


09 


Of  Justice,  ever  living  Btrenm  ! 

Whose  mercies  ceaseless  flow — 
Make  me,  while  earth  shall  be  my  spau, 
Just  to  my  fellow-mortal,  man, 

Whate'er  my  lot  may  be. 
And  when  this  transient  scene  is  o'er, 
Pure  let  my  deathless  spirit  soar, 

And  Mercy  find  from  thee. 


100  TO   SALLY, 


TO  SALLY. 


"  Integer  vitse,  scelerisque  purua 
Non  eget  Mauris  jaculis,  neque  arcu.** 


The  man  in  righteousness  array 'd, 

A  pure  and  blameless  liver, 
Needs  not  the  keen  Toledo  blade, 

Nor  venom-freighted  quiver. 
What  though  he  wind  his  toilsome  way 

O'er  regions  wild  and  weary — 
Through  Zara's  burning  desert  stray  ; 

Or  Asia's  jungles  dreary : 

What  though  he  plough  the  billowy  deep 

By  lunar  light,  or  solar. 
Meet  the  resistless  Simoon's  sweep. 

Or  iceberg  circumpolar. 
In  bog  or  quagmire  deep  and  dank, 

His  foot  shall  never  settle  ; 
He  mounts  the  summit  of  Mont  Blanc, 

Or  Popocatapetl. 

On  Chimborazo's  breathless  height, 
He  treads  o'er  burning  lava  ; 


TO    SALLY.  101 


Or  BnufTs  the  Bohan  Upas  blight, 

Tlie  tleathful  plant  of  Java. 
Through  eveiy  peril  he  shall  pass, 

By  Virtue's  shield  protected  ; 
And  still  by  Truth's  unerring  glass 

His  path  shall  be  directed. 

Else  wherefore  was  it,  Thursday  last, 

While  strolling  down  the  valley 
Defenceless,  musing  as  I  pass'd 

A  canzonet  to  Sally  ; 
A  wolf,  with  moulh  protruding  snout, 

Forth  from  the  thicket  bounded — 
I  clapped  my  hands  and  raised  a  shout  - 

He  heard — and  fled — confounded. 

Tangier  nor  Tunis  never  bred 

An  animal  more  crabbed  ; 
Nor  Fez,  diy  nurse  of  lions,  fed 

A  monster  half  so  rabid. 
Nor  Ararat  so  fierce  a  beast 

Has  seen,  since  days  of  Noah  ; 
Nor  strong,  more  eager  for  a  feast, 

The  fell  constrictor  boa. 

Oh  !  place  me  where  the  solar  beam 
Has  scorch'd  all  verdure  vernal ; 

Or  on  the  polar  verge  extreme, 
Block'd  up  with  ice  eternal — 


10-2 


TO    SALLY. 


Still  shall  my  voice's  tender  lays 
Of  love  remain  unbroken  ; 

And  still  my  charming  Sally  praise, 
Sweet  smiling  and  sweet  spoken. 


T(>  E E .  ju:j 


TO  E B 

On  !  wlierefure,  Lady,  was  my  lot 

Cast  from  thy  own  so  tar  ? 
Why,  by  kind  Fortune,  live  we  not 

Beneath  one  blessed  star  ? 
For,  had  thy  thread  of  life  and  mine 

But  side  by  side  been  spun. 
My  heart  had  panted  to  entwine 

The  tissue  into  one. 

And  why  should  Time  conspire 

To  sever  us  in  twain  ? 
And  wherefore  have  I  run  my  race, 

And  cannot  start  again  ? 
Thy  thread,  how  long !  how  short  is  mine  ! 

Mine  spent — thine  scarce  begun  : 
Alas  !  we  never  can  entwine 

The  tissue  into  onk 

But,  take  my  blessings  on  tliy  name — 

The  blessing  of  a  sire; 
Not  from  a  lover's  furnace  flame — 

'Tis  from  a  holier  tire  : 


104 


TO  E 


B 4 


A  thread  unseen  beside  of  thine 
By  fairy  forms  is  spun — 

And  holy  hands  shall  soon  entwine 
The  tissue  into  one. 


TO    A    LADY.  105 


TO  A  LADY 

WHO    TRESENTED    HIM    A    PAIR    OF    KMT    GLOVES. 

Who  shall  say  that  public  life 
Is  nothing  but  discordant  strife  1 
And  he  whose  heart  is  tuned  to  love, 
Tender  and  gentle  as  the  dove, 
Must  whet  his  talons,  night  and  day, 
For  confliclfl  with  the  birds  of  prey  7 

This  w^orld  is  fashioned,  Lady  fair, 
Of  Joy  and  Sorrow,  P2ase  and  Care; 
Of  sudden  changes,  small  and  great; 
Of  upward  and  of  downward  fate  : 
And  whoso  bends  his  mood  to  trace 
The  annals  of  man's  fallen  race, 
May  sigh  to  find  that  nature's  plan 
Is  ruthless  war  from  man  to  man. 
But  nature,  cruel  to  be  kind. 
Not  to  war  only  man  consigned ; 
But  gave  him  woman  on  the  spot, 
To  mingle  pleasure  in  his  lot : 
That  if  with  man  war  cannot  cease, 
With  woman  reigna  eternal  peace. 


106  TO    A    LADY. 

Fair  Lady,  I  have  lived  on  earth 
Nigh  fourscore  summers  from  my  birth ; 
And  half  the  sorrows  I  have  felt 
Have  by  my  brother  man  been  dealt ; 
And  all  the  ills  I  have  endured 
By  man  inflicted,  woman  cured. 
The  glove  from  man  to  man,  thou  know'st. 
Of  fierce  defiance  is  the  boast ; 
And  cast  in  anger  on  the  floor, 
To  mortal  combat  shows  the  door : 
But  gloves  from  woman's  gentle  hand, 
Of  cordial  Friendship  bear  the  wand  ; 
And  in  return  a  single  glove 
Betokens  emblematic  Love. 

Thy  gift,  fair  Ellen,  then  I  take, 
And  cherish  for  the  giver's  sake ; 
And  while  they  shelter  from  the  storm 
My  hands,  the  heart  alike  shall  warm  ; 
And  speed  for  thee  to  God  above, 
The  fervid  prayer  of  faithful  love. 


TIIK    LIT    AND    THE    HEART.  1U7 


THE  LIP  AND  THE  HEART. 

One  tlay  between  the  Li[>  and  the  Heart 

A  wordless  strife  arose, 
Which  was  expertest  iu  the  art 

His  purpose  to  disclose. 

The  Lip  called  forth  the  vassal  Tongue, 

And  made  him  vouch — a  lie  ! 
The  slave  his  servile  anthem  sung, 

And  brav'd  the  listening  sky. 

The  Heart  to  speak  in  vain  essay 'd, 
Nor  could  his  ])urp()se  reach — 

His  will  nor  voice  nor  tongue  obeyed, 
His  sileuce  was  his  speech. 

Mark  thou  their  difterence,  cliild  of  earth  ! 

While  each  performs  his  part, 
Not  all  the  lip  can  speak  is  worth 
The  silence  of  the  heart. 


108  WRITTEN    IN    AN    ALBUM. 


WRITTEN  IiN  AN  ALBUM. 

In  days  of  yore,  the  poet's  pen 

From  wing  of  bird  was  plundered  ; 
Perhaps  of  goose,  but,  now  and  then, 

From  Jove's  own  eagle  smidered. 
But  now  metallic  pens  disclose 

Alone  the  poet's  numbers 
In  iron  inspiration  glows, 

Or  with  the  minstrel  slumbers. 

Fair  damsel !  could  my  pen  impart, 

In  prose  or  lofty  rhyme, 
The  pure  emotions  of  my  heart, 

To  speed  the  flight  of  time  ; 
What  metal  from  the  womb  of  earth 

Could  worth  intrinsic  bear. 
To  stamp  with  corresponding  worth 

The  blessinsrs  thou  shouldat  share  ? 


A    VISION.  109 


A  VISION. 

Fatigued  with  labor,  and  with  care  opprest, 
At  once  my  mind  and  body  sought  for  rest. 
The  drowsy  god  upon  my  aching  head, 
Willi  liberal  hand,  his  friendly  poppies  shed, 
When,  lo  !  before  me  wondrous  scenes  appeared, 
Strange  things  I  saw,  and  stranger  things  I  heard ; 
On  purple  pinions  borne,  the  god  of  Love, 
With  rapid  flight,  descended  from  above. 
His  golden  quiver  by  a  ribbon  slung. 
In  graceful  ease  across  his  shoulder  hung ; 
The  fatal  how,  his  ensign  of  command. 
With  dire  intent  he  wielded  in  his  hand. 
He  saw  me  first,  and  took  a  feathered  dart, 
Prepared  his  bow,  and  letelled  at  my  heart ; 
I  turned  around,  his  posture  I  espied : 
*•  Oh,  spare  me,  Cupid,  cruel  god  !"   I  cried, 
'*  Behold  around  you  swarms  of  youthful  swaina, 
The  blood  of  passion  boiling  in  their  veini ; 
Tis  theirs  from  love  to  gather  perfect  bliss, 
On  beauty's  lips  lo  print  the  burning  kiss. 
'Tis  theirs  to  find  enjoyment  in  a  sigh, 
And  read  their  fortunes  in  a  virgin's  eye. 
10 


110  A    VISION. 

But  me,  whom  nature  formed  without  an  art 

To  win  the  soul  or  captivate  the  heart — 

Me,  whom  the  Graces  view  with  stern  disdain, 

As  scarcely  fit  to  join  the  Muses'  train ; 

From  me  what  trophies  couldst  thou  hope  to  raise  1 

So  poor  a  conquest,  w^ho  would  deign  to  praise  1 

By  Cupid's  hand  should  I  be  doomed  to  bleed, 

Not  even  Cupid  would  avow  the  deed. 

While  prostrate  millions  bow  before  thy  shrine 

With  willing  hearts,  thou  canst  not  wish  for  mine." 

^'  Mistaken  youth  !"  the  wanton  god  replied, 
''To  think  that  Love  will  e'er  submit  to  Pride  ; 
Though  willing  thousands  call  upon  my  name, 
Though  prostrate  millions  celebrate  my  fame, 
If  one  proud  heart  my  empire  could  despise, 
One  heart  defy  the  power  of  beauty's  eyes. 
My  useless  bow  at  once  I  would  destroy, 
Nor  ever  more  one  feathered  dart  employ ; 
My  mercy  then  in  vain  you  would  implore, 
Your  peace  of  mind  it  never  could  restore. 
And  yet  some  merit  I  will  grant  thy  plea. 
And  in  thy  favor  soften  the  decree. 
Of  all  the  fair  that  grace  the  verdant  plain. 
Choose  for  thyself  the  object  of  thy  pain. 
Shouldst  thou  prefer  the  beauties  of  the  face. 
Or  in  the  form  adrau'e  peculiar  grace — 
Should  sparkling  eyes  inspire  a  pleasing  flame, 
Or  rosy  cheeks  a  fond  attention  claim — 


A    VISION.  Ill 

Whatever  chiirm  thy  fancy  can  suggest, 
111  some  kind  virgm  thou  mnyst  still  be  blest; 
For  in  the  search  we  possibly  may  find 
Some  who  possess  the  beauties  of  the  mind." 

He  ceased  to  speak,  and  waved  his  potent  wand-»— 

The  virgin  tlirong  an)se  at  his  command. 

Uiniumbered  beauties  rise  before  my  view, 

Bright  as  the  sunbeam  on  tlje  morning  dev/, 

The  short,  the  tall,  the  fair,  the  brown,  appeared, 

The  prude  that  pouted,  the  coquette  that  leered. 

The  timid  maid  just  blooming  at  fifteen, 

And  the  stale  virgin,  withered,  pale,  and  lean. 

With  all  the  charms  of  beauty  richly  fraught, 

Lucinda  first  my  close  attention  caught. 

A  faultless  person  and  a  lovely  mind, 

I  found,  with  wonder,  were  in  her  combined  ; 

Deficient  only  in  a  single  part, 

She  wanted  nothing  but  ^  feeling  heart  ! 

Calm  and  unruffled  as  a  s»mimer  sea, 

From  passion's  gales  Lucinda's  heart  was  free. 

A  faithless  lover  she  may  well  defy, 

Recall  her  heart,  nor  breathe  a  single  sigh. 

And  should  a  second  prove  inconstant  too, 

She  change*  on  till  she  can  find  one  true. 

Belinda  next  advances  with  a  stride, 

A  compound  strange  of  vanity  and  pride. 

Around  her  face  no  wanton  Cupids  play, 

Her  tawny  skin  defies  the  god  of  day. 


i 


IliJ  A   VISION. 

Loud  was  her  laugh,  undaunted  was  her  look, 

And  folly  seemed  to  dictate  what  she  spoke. 

In  vain  the  poef  s  and  musician's  art 

Combined  to  move  the  passions  of  her  heart ; 

Belinda's  voice  like  grating  hinges  groans, 

And  in  harsh  thunder  roars  a  lover's  moans. 

I  turned  away,  the  fair  Narcissa  smiled, 

Her  winning  softness  all  my  soul  beguiled ; 

My  heart  with  rapture  dwelt  upon  her  charms, 

And  hoped  to  clasp  her  beauties  to  my  arms ; 

But  soon  I  found  those  ardent  hopes  were  vain, 

Narcissa  viewed  my  passion  with  disdain. 

And  can  the  sex  by  nature  formed  for  love, 

Each  soft  impression  from  the  heart  remove  ? 

Can  idle  vanity  betray  the  mind 

To  wish,  and  even  strive  to  be  unkind  ? 

Use  cunning  arts  to  raise  the  lover's  sigh. 

Then  view  his  woes  with  a  disdainful  eye  ? 

Yes,  there  are  such — but  when  avenging  time 

Withers  their  chaiTns,  and  strips  them  of  their  prime, 

Their  former  follies  they  in  vain  lament, 

Of  former  cruelties  in  vain  repent ; 

Their  fate  in  one  short  line  may  be  comprised  : 

While  young,  they're  hated,  and  when  old,  despised. 

Vanessa  came,  a  smile  adorned  her  face. 

Her  words  were  sweetness,  and  her  voice  was  grace ; 

No  raging  passions  burn  within  her  breast. 

Not  even  envy  can  disturb  her  rest. 

Her  lovely  mind  a  rivaVs  worth  can  own, 


A   VISION.  113 

Nor  thinks  all  charms  confined  to  her  alone  ; 

And  if  the  fair  Vanessa  could  be  taught 

To  store  her  mind  wiih  larger  funds  of  thought, 

Her  volubility  of  tongue  repress, 

Think  somewhat  more,  and  prattle  somewhat  less, 

The  palm  of  excellence  she  well  might  claim, 

And  Love  himself  might  tune  the  voice  of  fame. 

But  lo !  Corinna  next  in  rank  appears, 

And  riots  in  the  bloom  of  early  years. 

With  innate  warmth  of  constitution  blest, 

Her  greatest  pleasure  is  to  be  caressed ; 

Her  lipe  sip  rapture  from  an  amorous  kiss, 

Viewed  as  a  pledge  of  more  endearing  bliss. 

But  frugal  Nature  wisely  did  dispense, 

With  so  much  love,  a  slender  share  of  sense  ; 

For  Nature  grants  but  to  a  chosen  few 

To  taste  the  joys  of  mind  and  body  too. 

Gigantic  limbs  in  painful  buckram  cased. 

Assume  the  honors  of  a  slender  waist. 

But  ah  !  what  power  of  buckram  can  restrain 

The  wild  effusions  of  a  thoughtless  brain. 

Nerea  next  advances  in  the  throng, 

And  affectation  leads  the  maid  along  ; 

With  studied  step  she  steers  amid  tlio  band, 

And  holds  a  senseless  novel  in  her  hand. 

Fair  is  her  face,  and  elegant  her  form, 

Her  manners  gentle,  and  her  heart  is  warm. 

Why  will  Nerea  spend  her  youthful  days 

In  wild  romances  and  insipid  plays ; 


114  A    VISION. 

Where  idle  tales  in  flimsy  language  told. 
Exhibit  folly  in  a  pleasing  mould  ? 
Fictitious  evils  enervate  the  breast, 
Deprave  the  morals,  and  corrupt  the  taste. 
Almira  next,  in  dubious  form  is  seen — 
Her  face  is  female,  masculine  her  mien ; 
With  equal  skill,  no  mortal  can  pretend 
The  varied  faults  of  either  sex  to  blend. 
To  vi^oman's  weakness  add  the  pride  of  man. 
And  wield  alike  the  dagger  and  the  fan. 
In  fairest  forms,  can  evil  passions  dwell  ? 
The  virgin's  breast  can  envy's  venom  swell  ? 
Can  malice  dart  her  rage  from  beauty's  eye, 
Or  give  the  snow-white  cheek  a  crimson  dye 
Where  then  are  all  the  tender  virtues  flown — 
And  why  was  strength  dispensed  to  man  alone 
The  lamb  to  vie  with  lions  ne'er  pretend — 
The  timid  dove  with  eagles  ne'er  contend. 
Attempt  not  then,  ye  fair,  to  rule  by  fear, 
The  surest  female  weapon  is  a  tear. 
To  beauty,  strangers  destitute  of  grace, 
With  varied  nothing  pictured  in  their  face, 
A  motley  crowd  in  quick  succession  came, 
Distinguished  only  by  a  differing  name. 
Till,  breaking  forth  in  all  the  pride  of  day, 
The  sun  of  beauty  drove  those  clouds  away. 
vVith  graceful  steps  the  lovely  Clara  moved, 
I  saic,  I  gazed,  I  listened,  and  I  loved. 
The  fleeting  vision  vanished  from  my  mind, 


A    VISION.  115 

But  love  and  Clara  still  remained  behind. 

Ye  faithful  lovers,  whom  the  Muse  inspires, 

Who  feel  the  rapture  of  poetic  fires ; 

Whose  tender  strains  describe  with  matchless  art 

The  soft  emotions  of  a  feeling  heart; 

Come,  and  before  the  lovely  Clara's  shrine, 

The  mingled  tribute  of  your  praises  join. 

My  Clara's  charms,  no  vulgar  poets  claim, 

No  servile  bard  that  clips  the  wings  of  fame, 

To  vile  acrostic  tunes,  unmeaning  lays, 

Or  in  a  rebus  centres  all  his  praise. 

The  partial  gods  presiding  at  her  biilh 

Gave  Clara  beauty  when  they  gave  her  worth. 

Kind  Nature  formed  of  purest  white  her  skin, 

An  emblem  of  her  innocence  within  ; 

And  called  on  cheerful  Health,  her  aid  to  lend, 

The  rose's  colors  on  her  cheeks  to  blend ; 

While  Venus  added,  to  complete  the  fair, 

The  eyes  blue  languish  and  the  golden  hair. 

But  far  sui>erior  charms  exalt  her  mind. 

Adorned  by  nature  and  by  art  refined  ; 

Hers  are  the  lasting  beauties  of  the  hearty 

The  charms  which  nature  only  can  impart ; 

The  generous  purpose  and  the  soul  sincere, 

Meek  sorrow's  sigh  and  gentle  pity's  tear. 

Ah,  lovely  Clara  !  can  a  heart  like  thine. 

Accept  the  tribute  of  a  muse  like  mine  ? 

Should  these  p^x^r  lays  attract  thy  beauteous  eye, 

Sjy,  would  they  raise  one  sympathetic  sigh? 


116 


A   VISION. 


For  thee,  my  heart  with  vivid  ardor  glows, 
For  thee,  my  blood  with  rapid  impulse  flows. 
By  day  thy  beauties  are  my  darling  theme, 
By  night  thy  image  sweetens  many  a  dream. 
On  theCf  thy  ardent  lover's  fate  depends. 
From  thee,  the  evil  or  the  boon  descends ; 
Thy  choice  alone  can  make  my  anxious  breast. 
Supremely  wretched  or  supremely  blest  / 


5423 


x 


At  that  time  John  Quincy  Adams  was 
Secretary  of  State.  In  his  diary,  under 
date  of  July  17,  1823,  he  notes  an  inter- 
view between  himself  and  Baron  Tuyl, 
the  Russian  minister.  "1  told  him  spe- 
cially that  we  should  contest  the  ri^ht  of 
Russia  to  any  territorial  establishment 
on  this  continent,  and  that  we  should  as- 
sume distinctly  the  principle  that  the 
American  continents  are  no  longer  sub- 
jects for  any  new  European  colonial  es- 
tablishments." 

In  that  sentence  lies  the  germ  of  one 
branch  of  the  Monroe  doctrine. 


